The Phantom Count
by kriitikko
Summary: Charles de Chagny meets a mysterious masked Count who is plotting against the de Chagny family. POTO meets Count of Monte Cristo in the year 2077. Better than it sounds, please read and review. COMPLETE
1. Celebrating the New Year

**Firstly, so sorry for all the grammar mistakes. English is still not my first language.**

**So, how to describe this fic. Sometime ago I made a Count of Monte Cristo plotted fic set in Harry Potter world. During that time I wondered if the same trick would work in Phantom world. I forgot the whole thing until a couple months ago then I saw a 24 parts long anime series "Gankutsuou", a futuristic Count of Monte Cristo story. It stirred the writer in me and I knew sooner or later I had to do this. As Gankutsuou, this fic is also set in the future and starts from the middle of Alexander Dumas novel. In some ways this is very close to the book, in others it's not. **

**I've gathered here characters from POTO versions. You'll probably recognise names and hints from Leroux, Kay, ALW and different movie versions. I hope you'll enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I just use them, I don't owe them. **

**THE PHANTOM COUNT**

Chapter 1 Celebrating the New Year

_4…3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR 2077!_

_And will you just look at that! I've never seen such a grand fireworks before. The citizens of Paris have certainly put their best this time around. I see fireworks resembling different animals and fairy tale creatures and was that a bat- signal? Truly incredible party has started here in the capital of United-Europe and very soon celebrations will continue everywhere in the world! This is Gilles Andre, for Parisian Network!_

The TV was turned off in a hotel room in New Budapest. Charles, viscount de Chagny, went standing in front of a mirror. This young man had turned 17 just in last month and with that inherited the title of being viscount. Truthfully Charles didn't fully comprehend what it exactly meant to be, but he knew that he was in an important position, being the only son of Count de Chagny, the famous war hero.

There was a brief knock on the door and black haired young man, few years older than Charles, entered, dressed in a fine tuxedo.

"Well, Charles, ready to face the world as a man?" the man winked teasingly.

"Harry, I really don't think my age decides if I am a man or not" Charles said, combing his brown hair.

"You're absolutely right. You are still just a kid" his best friend, Harry Hunter, said and earned a mean glare.

"Just because you're a couple of years older than me…" Charles started.

"And more experienced and handsome and…" Harry kept going.

"Well, you're no aristocrat".

"Heh, a mere title if you ask me. Seriously, I think after the last war the world has gone a century back in time with all these aristocrats appearing" Harry said lazily. "And hurry up now, we are going to miss the New Year's party soon".

"I know, I know…"

12 minutes later Charles and Harry sat in a limousine driving through the streets of New Budapest. The last war had not been generous one to this part of the Europe and both young men could see that part of the city was still in need of rebuilding.

"I've heard that crime is flourishing in this city. Since it's a feast day and the crème of society is gathering I imagine many valets will disappear. Just to warn you" Harry said, from his side of the seat.

Charles listened only half-heartedly. He was more curious looking the still remained buildings of the Budapest before the war. Architecture had always been his weakness.

The limo arrived to a grand looking château. As Charles and Harry get up they blend in the crowd of people socialising outside the chateau.

"Charles! Charles!"

Charles de Chagny had to look carefully to see where the voice was coming from, but finally noticed the curvy black haired figure of Madame Hunyadi waving to him. Harry's tongue nearly dropped when he too noticed the woman.

"Charles, who is she?" he asked.

"Madame Hunyadi is one of the mother's opera loving friends. You know how much my mother loves opera. And stop drooling, she is over 20 years older than you!" Charles said through his teeth.

Two young me approached the woman.

"Madame Hunyadi, it is a pleasure to meet you again" Charles said, with a rehearsed politeness.

"I'm sure. And who, pray tell, is your friend?" the elder woman asked.

Harry immediately took a step forward. "Harry Hunter, at your service, Madame. Charles was good enough to invite me here".

"Have you two been friends for long then?"

"All our lives, Madame, we-"

Whatever Charles was about to say, nobody knew. He just went silence as did majority of the crowd around them. A feverish whispering started and it seemed everyone was looking at the black limo that had just driven to the entrance.

"It is him" Madame Hunyadi whispered.

The limo door opened and a figure of a man stepped outside. His clothes immediately told that he too was an aristocrat. He was dressed in black tuxedo and had a long black cape around him. He walked with a majestic grace through the crowds that seemed to split up in front of him, like a sea in front of Moses. He held his hat down, as if to cover his face but there seemed to be no need for that. Everyone noticed the mask covering his face.

For a moment mysterious man seemed to turn his head slightly towards where Harry, Charles and Madame Hunyadi were standing. Charles nearly gasped. _His eyes are shining like cats!_

Then the figure disappeared inside the château and crowd eased in talking again.

"Who was that?" Charles asked aloud.

Madame Hunyadi was immediately up to gossiping. "Nobody is quite sure who he is. His stayed in New Budapest for couple weeks now and the entire time the whole town has done nothing but gossiped about him. There are numerous theories who he is. Others say he is from the long line of royal blood from the Japan. Others say he is one of the last living Americans left. The whole man is a mystery".

"Why is he wearing a mask?" Harry asked.

"Nobody knows that either. Some says he is a criminal hiding his face. Others say he is hiding some deformity from birth or an injury from war. And others say there is nothing wrong in his face. He just keeps a mask to make himself mysterious".

"You mean he never takes it off?" Harry asked, astonished.

"Not in public".

"What is his name? He must have one" Charles said.

Madame Hunyadi smiled. "He is only known as Count Paradise. They say he owns the Paradise Islands".

Harry mentioned something about name being too biblical but other than that mysterious count was not talked about again. Instead the two young men entered the ball room and started the celebration of the New Year.

As much as dancing with total strangers and watching fireworks could provide pleasure for some, Charles felt himself rather lonely in the crowded room. He had never been that good at socializing with people outside the group of friends he knew. Therefore his only choices were listening to Madame Hunyadi's latest gossips or watching as Harry introduced himself to every female in the room.

It was then, when Charles was wondering around the Ball room, he noticed the masked Count Paradise standing a top of the grand staircase. Now that he wasn't wearing his cape, Charles saw how incredibly thin he was. He looked like a skeleton wearing a tuxedo. Count's eyes met his and Charles felt uncomfortable. It felt like Count was trying to see in his mind.

Then Charles felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see a strange oriental girl, about his age. Before Charles could mutter a word, girl gave him a rather forceful kiss. Feeling her tongue suddenly in his mouth, made Charles almost loose consciousness. He was too stunned to object when the girl took hold of his collar and started to drag him out of the ball room, to the less crowded corners of the château.

In a dark hallway girl stopped kissing Charles and gave him a playful, yet seductive smile.

Then Charles felt a presence behind him and a hard hit in the back of his head.

**Please review. I promise to thank everyone who reviews. **


	2. Kidnapped

**Okay, another chapter. Don't forget to review. To those who know "Le Comte de Monte Cristo" plot probably start to guess things by reading this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1. **

Chapter 2 Kidnapped

It was a bucket of cold water thrown at him that woke up Viscount Charles de Chagny.

"WhatWhereWhen?" he managed to say, while trying to focus his eyes in the dark and get over the shock the rude awakening brought.

He heard laughing, coming from all the directions. He tried to see, but it was too dark. All he knew was that he was tied in a rather uncomfortable chair and that he was surrounded.

"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted, raging being the only thing he could do.

"He wants to know the meaning!" a mocking voice said somewhere from his left.

"Should we light the situation for our pretty little guest?" another mocking voice said behind him.

Charles tried to fight but he couldn't get himself free from the chains holding him.

"Stop trying, lad. You might accidentally cut your wrists and you're no good to us dead" said a voice, this time coming right in front of him.

Charles raised his head and saw a big man with equally big stomach in front of him. He was dressed in a long dark green coat, had a big black beard and a dark skin typical for Romanians.

"Who are you?" Charles spat.

Man gave the most unpleasant smile Charles had ever seen. "I am Javert" man said simply.

Something rang bell in Charles head. The first thing in his mind was the character from Victor Hugo's book. Next he remembered how he had heard of the Gipsy Javert, a notorious criminal living in the area of the New Budapest. Specialised in robbery, blackmailing, arson and assassinations. Police would have a celebration day if he would be caught.

"Look", Charles started, trying to keep his voice from shaking, "my money…it's in my…"

"Not anymore" Javert said and Charles heard more laughing from the darkness.

"Then what do you want from me?" Charles asked, finding it hard to keep a brave face.

Javert looked surprised by the question. "Maybe you're not fully awake yet, boy. If I am correct, and do correct me if I am not, you are the son of Count Raoul de Chagny, the famous war hero".

Charles blinked and felt a cold feeling in his stomach. "Yes, I am".

"Well then, we are just going to wait for your friend arranging us a nice sum of money and we'll let you go" Javert said and turned back to the shadows. Just before he disappeared his voice came to Charles. "Oh by the way, your friend has three hours time. It's not my policy to keep hostages around for too long".

_Back in hotel:_

Harry Hunter had no idea who the girl was that just left from his room. He had danced with her in Ball room and then brought her here, they had lovely time and that was it. He sighed. Just a year ago then these kinds of one-night-stands didn't bother him, but lately they had left him with an empty feeling.

_Maybe I need to check my mental state, _he thought as he prepared to get some sleep.

KNOCK KNOCK

For a moment Harry just stared the door in utter disbelief. _Who on Earth could that be? Maybe that girl forgot something in here._

He quickly dressed up to be decent enough and opened the door, finding a skinny pale man with a weird grin. "You Mr. Hunter?" he asked, with a terrible accent.

"Yes".

"We have him" man said and gave Harry a picture of Charles chained in a chair.

Harry blinked, looked at the picture, then the man and then the picture again. "Is this a joke?" he finally asked.

"No", man said, still grinning, "we have him. I'm a part of Javert the Gypsies group".

Harry stared at the man. He had heard of Javert and knew no-one would be stupid enough to joke being one of his group. Harry took hold of the man by his collar and slammed him against the wall.

"What the Hell have you done to him?!" he yelled but stopped when he felt the tip of a knife in his stomach.

"Take it easy. We don't want to wake everyone up, now do we? Your friend is safe and will remain so if you do what we want. You have three hours time to arrange 10 million euros to us for his life" man said calmly.

Harry looked at his watch. _03:43_

"It's the morning of a New Year. No bank is open at this time" Harry said. "And I don't have that kind of moneys in cash".

"I'm sure the friend of Count de Chagny's son can arrange something" man said and slipped out of Harry's grasp. "I'll be waiting outside" he said before disappearing.

Harry dressed up and practically ran all the way to the closest bank. As he rather expected, it wasn't open. Next thing he did was to talk to a hotel worker and ask how long it would take to transfer some money from Paris to the hotel and how large sums were allowed. To both questions answer was same: not nearly enough. In his final attempt he tried to contact Count de Chagny, praying that with his influence they could arrange the money. However, due to a certain complications, caused by the fireworks all around the United Europe, no contact was made.

Harry Hunter sat down to a chair and put his head in his hands. _What can I do? This can not be happening. Please God, wake me up from this nightmare. I can not just sit by and let them do anything to Charles. He is like a brother to me, my only brother. Ever since we first met he has always been there for me. This can not be happening. There must be something I can do!_

"Mr. Hunter?"

Harry raised his head so quickly that his neck gave a weird sound. Before him was standing a dark skinned man in his fifties, dressed in a fine black suit. "Would you please follow me, Mr. Hunter? My lord, Count Paradise, wants to talk with you about your current problem" man said.

Harry was too stunned to say anything. He just felt himself rising and following the man outside the hotel, where he could see the sky clearing. The streets were empty, except for a fine black limo and a tall masked man standing in front of it. As Harry came closer, he noticed how tall Count really was. Harry himself was not a short man, but Count would have to look down on him. He felt the shinning eyes behind the mask piercing him.

"Good morning, Mr. Hunter" Count Paradise said.

Harry had to keep himself from gasping. Never before had he heard a voice like that. It was like something from another world, too powerful to be a mere human's voice. _There must be something in that mask. No-one can have a voice like that. _

"I understand your friend, Viscount de Chagny, has run in to some troubles" Count continued.

"Ho-How do you know that?" Harry asked, not even caring he hadn't addressed the man with a proper title.

"I always keep myself well connected in everywhere I go. It is useful in a city like this to know what happens, don't you think?" Count said. Harry was starting to get unnerved by being addressed by a man, who hid his entire face behind a mask. Which wasn't white anymore, but black.

"I…I guess so" Harry admitted.

"I would hate to know a son of a fellow noble man died when I could have prevented it. Will you accept my help, Mr. Hunter?" Count asked.

"If you can arrange 10 million euros to me, I'd be in your dept forever" Harry exclaimed.

Masked man chuckled. "I doubt I can, but there is something I can do" he said and turned to his left.

Harry turned also and saw the dark sinned man from before and another man, with grey-pale skin and black hair, dressed in a similar black suit, dragging the pale man who had demanded the ransoms from Harry. He looked like he had been beaten.

Count moved a step forward. "Nadir, Lajos" he said. Both men dropped the pale man to the ground. Count looked at him and then said with a dark, commanding voice: "Take us to the boy".

**I understand the chapters have been very short but that might, MIGHT, change in the future. **


	3. Count's Motives

**A new chappy. I'm telling you now that I'm not happy with this chapter and I was kind of tired, so there are probably more mistakes than what I found. Still, leave a review. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 3 Count's Motives

Charles de Chagny really didn't know what he should think of this day. Just a few hours ago then he had still being held a hostage in Javert's lair and now he was back in his hotel room. How had things taken this turn?

"_Time's up, lad. Your friend was unable to fulfil our request. I'm afraid this is it for you, then" Javert said, appearing again from the shadows in front of Charles. _

_Charles didn't know what to feel. He had hoped Harry, his most trusted friend, would find some way to help him out of this mess, but truthfully he had doubted it. That had left him to think what might actually happen to him. Charles had felt a terrible feeling in his stomach when he realised he might actually die. _

_Javert also had noticed Charles discomfort. "Now, now, lad. There might be no need to fear. You know, everything is bargain. If you have right thing to sell you might be able to buy your way out of this alive" he said. _

_Charles looked at him in astonishment. But what on Earth could he hope to bargain? He had no money with him and all his fortune was in Paris. _

_Javert leaned closer so his stinking breath touched Charles cheek as he whispered. "You're not bad looking at all, lad"._

_Charles felt a repulsion shot through his body. Death before that, his mind screamed. _

_But before neither could do anything loud noises were heard from the shadows. They sounded disturbingly much like fighting. Javert started to scream the names of his men but none answered. Then suddenly two men stepped out of the shadows, dressed in similar black suits. The other had a dark skin and was walking towards Charles. The other had grey-pale skin and was behind Javert, holding a knife on his throat. _

"_Young Viscount will come whit us, Mr. Javert, and you will get off a lot easier if you won't try to stop us" said the dark skinned man as he bend down and somehow unchained Charles. Charles stood up, nearly lost his balance, and was helped by the man who, without saying another word, started lead Charles trough the darkness. _

_The two men lead Charles to outside, to the light, to his best friend and a masked count._

That had been early this very morning, the first morning of the year 2077. The Count had arranged Charles and Harry back to hotel and advised them to rest the day. He then invited them to join him to the opera the same evening. Considering that he had just saved Charles life, they couldn't say no, could they?

"You've been awfully quiet, Harry. One would think it was you who was kidnapped" Charles said, as they sat in the car taking them to the Opera house.

"What?" Harry asked absently as he was pulled out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry about that. I just…well…" he trailed off.

Charles was astonished. "You're not blaming yourself of what happened, are you? Because it's really alright. I'm fine, you see? Little shaken, but fine".

"Maybe so, but I can't help it. If I had been there when they took you, instead of hitting some bird whose name I don't even remember anymore…"

"Hey, stop that right there. If you had been there they might have taken us both or kill one of us. Now, we are both alive and well. Thanks to Count" Charles said.

Harry didn't say anything but his mind was working. _That's the other thing I'm concerned. It all happened way too easily. I wonder what Count's motives are. _

The two arrived to the opera house and found the dark skinned man, named Nadir, expecting them.

"Ah, Viscount de Chagny, Mr. Hunter, follow me, please. My master is expecting you both in his private box" he said.

Two young men entered to Count's private box that had a perfect view to the stage. The second act had just begun. Charles and Harry were about to say something, but Count Paradise's gave a gesture of silence and both boys just sat to their chairs. Count's mask was white again.

When the opera came to its finale and the audience applaud, Count stood up with a bunch of roses in his hands. He threw the roses to the stage, and the leading soprano caught them in midair. The entire audience gasped and Count chuckled behind his mask.

It wasn't until Charles and Harry found themselves opposite Count Paradise in his limo, that he finally spoke to them.

"What did you think of the opera?" he asked.

"Uhm…interesting" Harry mumbles, not daring to watch the Count, since he had thought the whole experience utterly boring.

"Lady Macbeth is somewhat too dark for me, but I think the leading soprano was terrific" Charles said, showing much more interest.

"Oh? Are you a friend of the opera, young Viscount?" Count asked.

Charles shrugged. "Well, I've learned a couple of things about the opera world, but I'm no expert. My mother on the other hand is a great admirer of opera. She used to sing before marrying my father" he explained.

"I see", Count said and it seemed like there was a sudden heaviness in his voice.

"Thank you, Count. For what you did to help me" Charles said. "I didn't have a time to express my gratitude to you earlier".

Count held his hand up. "It was nothing really. I've faced situations lot worse than that" he said.

"Why the sudden generosity towards complete strangers?" Harry blurted out, not able to hold his suspicious inside anymore.

"Harry!" Charles hissed through his teeth.

"No, no, Mr. Hunter is right. I'm afraid I had my own motives of helping you, Viscount" Count Paradise said, his voice still having that unusual calmness.

_I knew there was something fishy about this! _Harry's mind screamed.

"The truth is that I have been planning to settle down in Paris for a few months and being a foreigner I know how hard it is to get to the society. In the back of my mind I was hoping you two could introduce me to your society and ease my moving in, so to speak" he explained.

Charles sat watching the Count in a mild surprise but then a smile took over his features. "It would be honour, Count. I know that you are just the kind of person who the Parisian will take immediate interest in. My parents would certainly love to meet you" he exclaimed happily.

"I am looking forward in meeting them also" Count replied.

Harry didn't say anything. _Is that really it? He has no other reasons? I guess it makes sense but still…I don't have that great feeling about this. _

The limo stopped and Count stepped out. Charles and Harry saw an exclusive looking club in front of them. They followed Count to the inside, since a portiere was good enough to let them in, when he saw Count's mask. Inside the music played and people danced.

"Youth is a time when you must live your fullest. Especially since both of you now know how easily life can end any given moment. Enjoy, my young friends", Count said and waved them to join the dancing floor.

"Well, this should make you smile, Harry! Girls and drinks, what more do you want?" Charles laughed as he made his way to the bar. Harry came close behind him but he still had his suspicious. He glanced back at the Count, who had sat down in a dark corner table, with Nadir standing by him.

"It's finally beginning" Count Paradise said in a low voice.

"My lord?" Nadir asked.

"Did you pay Javert for his troubles?" Count asked.

"Yes, and a little extra to make sure he keeps his mouth shut. Also, the virus we released to the lines between New Budapest and Paris have been cleaned off, no trace left" Nadir informed.

"Then I am finally ready to start my hunt" the man behind the mask said. He turned his head and looked for Charles de Chagny, a laughing, happy young man who was living the happiest times of his life.

_He has his mother's eyes_.

**To be continued...**


	4. Privilege Ones

**Thanks for the reviews. Since I seem to have only you two anymore, anything from you will be guarded safely, close to my heart. **

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1.**

Chapter 4 Privilege Ones

Charles, the Viscount of de Chagny, sat in his car, enjoying the wind blowing to his face. He smiled. The sun was shinning, the sky was blue and building familiar. It was indeed good to be back in Paris, the capital of United Europe. Well, truthfully it had already been nearly three weeks since he and Harry returned from New Budapest, but after being kidnapped Charles truly appreciated the surroundings of home town. Also, here you really needed to have a death wish to be stupid enough of attacking de Chagny.

Charles father, Count Raoul, had become a famous war hero in the battle of Mazandera, the conflict that finally ended War World III, that took place when Charles was still very little. His mother always did tell him, that he was very lucky of not remembering much of those desperate times which had changed the world. Now that Charles had also lived a brief time of utter darkness, he started to see more clearly how right his mother was and still is.

However, he forced these rather depressing thoughts out of his head, when he saw a familiar figure of a young man, few years older than Charles, with blonde hair and blue army uniform walking on the street. Charles slowed down his car and drove near him.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is it Philip Carriere himself I see?" Charles asked, smiling.

The blonde man smiled when he recognised the driver. "Charles, it has been a while, hasn't it?"

"It sure has. Are you on a vacation from army?" Charles smiled.

"Nope. Army is over on my part. I just got back in Paris" Philip answered.

"Really! Where are you headed?"

"Um…no place really. I haven't made many plans. Thought about taking it easy for a little while".

Charles smile winded. "Great! If you have time come with me! I was just about to meet some friends…to introduce them to someone you better know".

"Oh really? Who?" Philip asked, as he sat in passenger's seat.

_**12 minutes later:**_

"So this life saving Count is coming to Paris today, eh?" Philip asked.

"He is probably already here. But we agreed to meet today. I'm going to introduce him to my friends, since they all represent themselves and their parents. Count wanted to become involved with the society" Charles explained.

"So where are we meeting this mystery man?"

"In the Club House. I've rented a cabinet for our personal use only for this afternoon".

"Who all will be there?"

Charles smiled. "Well, you're just about to see" he said and parked his car.

Philip stood out of the car and watched the huge building. It was known as the Club House, though that wasn't its official name, and it was the place where only the privilege ones enters to talk, play and drink with others privileged ones.

Both young men walked in the extremely upper-class looking building, where a waiter led them to their private cabinet.

"Have the others arrived, yet?" Charles asked.

"All but the highly expected Count himself, sir" waiter answered.

Indeed, Charles saw when the doors were opened, that the cabinet was already occupied by six young people, two women and four men. Charles quickly scanned the room and registered who all had come.

The first one to draw Charles attention was his best friend Harry Hunter, who was currently talking to a young woman of Charles age. Woman had brown hair, with matching brown eyes, and a care-free air around her. Charles knew her very well, the young woman was none other than Maria Cholet, a dear friend of both Harry and Charles. They had basically grown up together. Maria had a very bohemian nature; she was an artist, who never wanted to be trapped in a cage her father had built her. There had been some rumours about an engagement between Charles and Maria but, as dear friends as they were, both knew that it would be a disaster.

On Harry's other side, sitting next to him on a sofa, was another young woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes: Megan d'Arcy, simply Meg. Most would probably describe her as an angel, with her pure, innocent looks. Charles knew Meg was a very good girl indeed, but she had made her mistakes. One night with Harry, too much alcohol and next week Meg's dad had practically ordered Harry to propose her. They had been "engaged" for almost five months now, still very hard trying to find a way out.

Charles looked around to another group of three. He saw two young me chatting. Other one he recognised as Winslow Leach, a skinny man with long brown hair and glasses. Winslow was a technology freak, who always had to know everything and anything new that came to the market. Also a schoolmate of Philip's. The man Winslow was talking with was Richard Firmin. He was tall, rather well build man, with oily black hair and small moustache. He was always dressed very officially, no matter the occasion. Except if he went to a beach. Charles had heard that Firmin had been promoted in the law firm he was working.

_If Firmin is here, then very close should be…_

And yes, Charles did find the last person in the room, Gilles Andre, sitting on a sofa near Firmin. The two were inseparable ones, though not one would believe it by looking. Andre was almost the complete opposite of Firmin: short, slightly over weight, dressed very loosely and constantly smoking. Andre worked as a reporter to the Parisian Network, and was very good, if not the best they had. Viewers, for some reason, seemed to love him.

It was Andre who noticed Charles and Philip first in the room. He jumped from the sofa, stumped his cigarette and walked to Charles. "Charles de Chagny, you two-faced, backstabbing, excuse of a friend!" Andre said, with a playful smile on his face.

"What? What on Earth did I do?" he asked, knowing that unless Andre was in front of a camera, nothing he said needed to take seriously.

"What did you do? Oh, nothing! Except you got kidnapped by one of the wanted criminals of New Budapest, saved by a mysterious masked noble man and you didn't arrange the exclusives for me!" he said, while playfully smacking Charles shoulder.

Charles turned his head towards Harry. "You couldn't wait for me to come and tell myself?"

Harry simply smiled innocently. Mari rose up and also punched Charles to the shoulder…not playfully. "You, dumpass! What do you go around, getting kidnapped by a bunch of weirdoes! Not even saying goodbye to me" she shouted, rather angrily. She then quieted down and hugged rather confused Charles. "Glad you're okay" she then said.

Charles smiled. "Always!" he said and then turned to Philip. "Look who I found, finally left the army behind, he did" Charles said. He started to introduce him. "This here is Philip Carriere, the guy who used to tutor me in the subjects that didn't interest me. Philip, you of course know Maria, Harry and Winslow already. These fine fellows are Gilles Andre, Richard Firmin and…"

"Meg d'Arcy" Philip said, looking at the blonde woman.

"You know each others?" asked rather surprised Harry, who had met Philip only couple of times in the company of Charles, and hadn't have the foggiest of him knowing his fiancée.

"Yes, we…Miss d'Arcy and I met before I joined the army. On that summer in Rivera, remember?" asked Philip, whose voice had a slight change.

"Yes, Mr Carriere, I do remember you" Meg said, looking Philip straight in the eyes.

Andre looked the two with interest. _Hmm, I have a hunch these two did more than just met. _

Winslow broke the silence that had appeared. "So, Charles. When will this protecting angel of yours join us?" he asked.

"Well, he should be here…" Charles said, but went silent.

The mood in the room had suddenly changed. He looked around and saw Firmin and Maria looking behind him, both also sensing the sudden mood change. Charles turned around and saw a tall, insanely thin figure, standing proudly on the door, dressed in an expensive looking black suit, with gold in it and wearing a white porcelain mask, covering his face, letting only his black hair fall to his shoulders. Two shinning eyes were scanning the room.

"I'm sorry for not knocking" said an amused voice behind the mask. "The door was open, you see".

**To be continued… **


	5. Themes of the Operas

**Hello there! Sorry for keep you waiting this long, have been away little while, and will be again. So sorry. **

**I've noticed that couple of people have add this story to their "Alert me" lists. I'm flattered, because I think you have made this only because you find my story interesting. I would hope that you'd post reviews also. A simple review won't take much of your time, but it would make me very happy!**

**Disclaimers: See chapter 1. **

Chapter 5 Themes of the Operas

What he saw made him feeling sick.

_They're all so young and naïve. The eldest isn't probably more than 24 at most. Life treats them well because they have not started from the bottom. No, they were born with privileges. They don't know what it is like to loose everything you hold dear, to drop to the state where even a piece of old bread is treasured. I wonder do they know how treacherous people can be. I wonder if they have betrayed someone who trusted them. For jealousy, for power, for fame, for money…for love it is easy to betray those who trust you. Have they experienced it? Do they think they can do anything without consequences? Do they think past will stay hidden? Do they think like their parents think?_

In the private cabinet of the Club House, nine people were gathered around a long dinner table, filled with food and drinks. The one who arranged the gathering, Viscount Charles of de Chagny family, was sitting at the end of the table where he had a good look on everyone else. On his sides were his best friends: Harry Hunter on his right side, Maria Cholet on his left side. On the left side of the table, next to Maria, sat Winslow Leach, Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre. On the right side, next to Harry sat Meg d'Arcy and Phillip Carriere. End of the table was occupied by the centre of attention, a tall man dressed in black suit and white mask. He was known as Count Paradise.

"So, monsieur le Comte, beside of rescuing noble men in need, could you tell us something about yourself?" Andre, the everlasting reporter and journalist, asked while lighting yet another cigar.

If his smoking didn't please the Count, no signs were given. Just a low, rather amused voice came under the mask. "And what, would you like to know, then?"

"Well, for starters who are you and where you come from?" Andre said.

"You're asking from a masked man who he is. Isn't that little paradoxical?" Count's voice said and his amusement was very clear. "But wouldn't it be wrong for me tell you such a detailed information of myself? After all, isn't it my mystery that keeps people attracted to me? Would any of you give a second glance at me, if you didn't find me so intriguing and mysterious? For all you know I could be Sinbad the Sailor or Don Juan. But the moment the mask if off, the moment when my secrets are no longer mine, I fail to be interesting anymore. To you and to the whole world".

For a moment there was a silence in the table and then laughing. Everyone's head turned to look Richard Firmin, who seemed to have troubles of holding his laugh.

"Well, Gilles, it looks like someone finally managed to get you quiet" he finally managed to say.

Andre send a death glare towards Firmin that silenced him immediately.

"Well, well now" Charles said, amused beyond anything else. "Maybe you could tell us then something else, Count. Perhaps you could tell us about your journeys. I've heard that you have been seen around the world in many places".

"As the Viscount of de Chagny asks from me" Count replied.

"Please, call me Charles, Count. After you saving my life, I would like to consider the two of us as friends from here on" Charles said.

For a moment Count was silent, as if he wasn't sure how to respond, but then he answered. "As you wish, Charles".

For nearly an hour, Count Paradise told the most incredible stories of his life and adventures. It became apparent that he was a natural-born storyteller. His stories were so incredible and imaginative that coming from anyone else it wouldn't have sounded correct. But Count somehow with his voice managed to create a feeling that he had, in fact, lived all this.

"…and that is how I met Nadir and how he stayed in my service" Count finished yet another story of his.

"Incredible, Count. That really sounds like a story of a great Opera" the brown haired girl, Maria Cholet, said.

Count's interest was immediately captured. "Are you a friend of opera then, Miss. Cholet?" he asked.

Maria seemed to consider the question. "No, not really. My father is the manager of the Opera Populaire, so I have grown up with opera close to my heart. The feelings, the passion and the themes are very close to me, as for any artists, but I'm thrilled by opera in general" he finally said.

"That is understandable. Opera, especially the ones written before the United Europe was formed, are not everyone's cup of tea. I personally have yet to find a new era opera that I wouldn't dislike. But tell me, Miss. Cholet, is your father Monsieur Alan Cholet, by any chance?" Count asked.

Darkness seemed to fall over Maria's face and she only nodded her head.

"Would it be inappropriate for me to ask you to introduce him to me? As a friend of the opera I would like to purpose a business deal for him" Count continued.

"I think that can be arranged. God knows that man loves only money" Maria muttered. Count didn't seem to notice.

"Well, good that is settled. So, are there any other friends of opera's themes here?" Count asked loudly.

"Such as? You must forgive me ignorance, but I am not familiar with opera, so I don't know its themes" Winslow Leach, the mechanic geek, asked while cleaning his glasses.

"Why, the most common theme is love, of course. Love between friends, family and lovers. There is the tragic love, the happily-ever-after love, the eternal love…"

"The unrequited love".

Count Paradise stopped talking to watch the man who had said those words. It was a young blonde man who had come with Charles, Phillip Carriere.

"Why yes, young sir, the unrequited love. How you ever had such a burden?" Count asked, almost slyly.

Phillip looked uncomfortable. Nobody noticed how Meg d'Arcy, the fiancée of Harry Hunter, turned her eyes down.

"Have you, Count?" Phillip asked.

Count was silent. When he answered his voice was lower than usually. "No, not unrequited love. Lost love, yes" he finally answered.

The table was uncomfortably silent. Andre light a cigar, the previous obviously used already, and said: "So, any good operas that have a journalist as the main character?"

The other hour passed with talking of politic, art and gossips. And little by little, one by one, the young people started to leave. Firmin back to ministry, Andre to his office in Parisian Network, Leach to who-knows-where. Finally only Charles and the Count were left.

"You have some truly interesting friends, Charles. Thank you for introducing them to me" said the voice behind the porcelain mask.

"It was the least I could do, Count. But please, there are still two persons I'd like you to meet" Charles said, having a hopeful smile on his face. "My mother and father" he said.

"As a matter of fact, I have been waiting to meet them myself" Count answered.

Count Paradise followed Charles de Chagny's car with his own, to one of the most luxurious houses in Paris: the de Chagny manor. Some of the lower class people often complained about the size of the house. Only one family lived there, and it still had a space for an entire army.

As the two entered the mansion, a man in black suit came towards them.

"Bernard, are my parents here?" Charles asked.

"Yes, Master Charles, they are" elder man said, with obvious butler dignity in his voice. Count wondered if Bernard had British family roots.

"Will you let them know that I have come and Count Paradise is whit me?" Charles asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"Right away sir" Bernard said and disappeared.

As they waited, Charles lead Count through a long corridor, walls filled with paintings. Charles explained which one were purchased by his father and which one his mother. Count agreed with Charles, that his mother had a better taste.

"Has our quest arrived?" said a female voice behind.

If Charles had been only one step closer to Count, he could have barely hear the soft gasp that escaped behind the mask.

_Her voice!_

**To be continued…**


	6. The de Chagny Family

**Finally a new chapter! Hope you're still interested. **

**Hey, I got some new readers! Thank you very much! Just to let you know, I appreciate every review I get and they don't have to be long ones. The more the better for me to keep writing this story. **

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1.**

Chapter 6 The de Chagny family

The countess of de Chagny family, Christine, had been eagerly waiting this moment for many weeks now. When she had heard what had happened and what could have happened to Charles in New Budapest, she had wanted to meet her son's mysterious rescuer and thank him personally. She had done her research from internet, but it seemed only contain rumours of Count Paradise. The only reliable facts were that the man is filthy rich and very private. Not one picture of him could be found of him, but it was claimed he always made an appearance in a mask.

Charles had told her this also. Still, it didn't stop her for being surprised when she finally saw the man. He was tall and very thin. He was completely dressed in some sort of eastern stylish black clothes, with gold in them. A long black hair fell to his shoulders and his face was completely covered by a white porcelain mask. His hands were covered by white gloves. Really, not a single part of him had been left for eyes to see.

No, that wasn't completely true. His eyes could be seen, if one was to stand close to him. However from the door she couldn't make out their colour. But she was certain they shined.

Christine had tied her brown hair and dressed in red dress. Her husband, Count Raoul of de Chagny, had dressed in a dark blue suite. It had always suited him, brought his eyes out. His long blonde hair had been cut short and he had grown short moustache, but other than Raoul hadn't change much in Christine's eyes. He could be childish still.

"Father and mother, I'd like you to meet Count Paradise. Count, this is my father Raoul, the Count of de Chagny" Charles said, still standing next to Count.

"Welcome to our family manor, Count. I am honoured by your visit" Raoul said and took a step forward, raising his hand for the count.

Count Paradise did not reply, nor raised his hand. Instead he bowed his head a little. "I am the one who is honoured here, sir. I must confess that I have been waiting for our meeting quite some time now" answered the deep, yet so rich, voice under the mask.

"You flatter me. This is my wife Christine, the countess de Chagny" Raoul said, motioning Christine to come forward.

"Madame" Count said and bowed his head to her direction.

"My dear Count, please do not be so formal. You are the man who saved my son's life. Therefore I am the most honoured one here, to be able to thank you face to face" Christine said, delight in her voice. Then she gasped. "Oh my. I didn't mean to offend you, please forgive me".

Count merely laughed. "There is nothing to forgive you, Madame. I am quite used to strange looks and little slips. And you make it sound as if I had done some huge heroic deed, when in fact it wasn't really anything compared to what your husband has achieved" he said.

"To a mother saving her child means more than coming victorious from hundred different battlefields" Christine said, quite honestly. She took a step forward, standing now directly in front of him. She had to look up to see his eyes. They were indeed shinning. Green eyes, with little yellow there. She had not seen anyone have eyes like that since…

Suddenly she gave a gasp, more loudly this time, her face became paler and she took a step back.

Charles was by her side at once. "Mother, are you alright? Is something wrong?" he asked.

Christine waved her hand, as if casting some spell. "Oh no, nothing at all. Heat just got the better of me. Since it is so cold outside the heat here has a habit of increasing suddenly" she explained.

"I shall have it fixed by tomorrow", Raoul said, taking his wife's hand in his own, "now, please, let us move to the dining hall".

The dining table was ludicrously long. Count saw no reason for only one family to use a table this long. He understood that it was probably only meant to be used when the crème of Paris gathered, but still. Luckily they were sitting at the other end of the table. Otherwise they would have had to yell each others.

Countess Christine noticed in wonder, how Count's mask opened slightly, allowing him to drink and eat small pieces. Not enough however for anyone to see clearly his teeth.

"So, monsieur le Comte, please tell us little about yourself. Where have you been living before Paris?" Raoul de Chagny asked.

"In various locations. All over Europe, Asia, Middle-East…" Count said dismissingly.

"Middle-East?" Count Raoul asked.

"Ah, yes. You know the area, don't you? But of course you do, after all that time you spent there during the war. And let us not forget that the famous battle of Mazandera was won because of certain General de Chagny" Count said.

Raoul looked startled for a minute, but was smiling again soon. "You make it sound such a glorious thing, Count, like most of the news reporters at the time did. However, the battle was terrible and our side had many losses, also" he informed.

"Count de Chagny, do not let my mask fool. I am hardly a young person, and I do know full well how terrible the war was. It changed many lives, mine also. Without any intentions of sounding dramatic, I can safely say that evil reigned then. When all you could see was despair and hopelessness, it became tempting to do things you knew in your heart were wrong, if they allowed you to move closer to a better world. You must have faced such temptations also".

Raoul de Chagny sat completely still, looking the masked man. The atmosphere in the room seemed to have suddenly changed. "Yes, it is true. In a situation like that, there were many temptations. But I can gladly say that my conscience is clear" he then said.

"That is good to know. When the judgement day comes none of our past sins will go unnoticed. It wouldn't do good to have skeletons in ones closets" Count said and drank little of the wine they had served.

Raoul looked now somewhat uncomfortable. Maybe because of this Christine decided it was time to change subject.

"Are you a religious man, Count?" she inquired.

"I wouldn't go so far as saying that I believe in all-powerful and loving God, but I do find myself returning to the Bible from time to time" is the masked mans response.

Christine smiles beautifully. "Bible is precious for me also. I do believe in that text which says that even when one has all the power and riches of the world, without love he has nothing. Do you have a favourite part, Count?"

"Yes, Madam. An eye for an eye".

After that the rest of the evening went with getting to know each others. Basically it meant the Christine and Raoul de Chagny asked many questions from their masked quest, who answered them with honesty but never really giving anything away. When clock rang seven p.m. Count Paradise announced that it was time for him to leave.

"Count, I couldn't help but notice that you barely touched your food" Countess Christine said.

"No need to concern yourself with that. My physical condition doesn't allow me to eat as much as I used to" he answered, rising from his chair.

After Count had bid his farewells to the two de Chagnys, Charles went to walk with him. Outside Nadir was waiting by the car.

"Thank you for this day, Charles. It has been very informative for me. After I have settled down in my new house, I would like to invite you and your friends and family there" Count said.

"Count, I'm sure we would love to come. I know I will" Charles said.

Count raised his hand and touched Charles' arm. For a moment it seemed he wanted to say something to the younger man, but then just bid good night and disappeared inside his black car. Charles watched as they drove away.

"Nadir, has Lajos done with arranging everything I need in Paris?" Count asked, sitting in the backseat. In the darkened car he removed his mask and wiped sweat from his face.

"Yes, milord. Everything should satisfy you. Young lady has also arrived without officials knowing" informed the driver.

"Good. You know where to take me now" Count informed.

Nadir drove for half an hour to the far side of Paris, to a small graveyard. This was the graveyard of common people, not important ones. Count walked away from the car, with a bunch of red roses in his hand and walked through the rows of tombstones. It took him some time to find the right one, but finally he bended down to his knees in front of a one and placed the roses there. He traced the name in the stone with his long fingers.

"Mother", he whispered, "I'm back".

**To be continued…**

**Please, review. **


	7. The New Patron

**Hey there! **

**Well, my. More and more people have added this story in their alert lists. To those people: please, posting a short review won't kill you. **

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 7 The New Patron

Maria Cholet sat on the steps of Opera Populaire. She leaned back and watched the bright sun up in the blue sky. Charles de Chagny approached her, climbing up the stairs.

"You're really asking for it, aren't you?" he said, while smiling.

Maria didn't even look at him. "What are you on about?"

"The way you've dressed. Does your father really approve?"

Maria tilted her head to look at him and smirked. "I hardly care what the old man thinks about me" she said.

Though Maria's shorts and top was hardly the most scandalous thing in the world, a girl from the more upper class was expected a little more decency. Charles knew this but he also knew that decency had never belonged to Maria's dictionary.

"Can you believe that just few decades ago then January was the time of snow and ice?" Charles asked, looking around the streets of Paris, no snow and ice to be seen.

"That was before our birth. Before the war, climate changes and idiots in charge nearly destroyed the whole planet. Back then everyone in Europe were titled for winter" Maria said, disapproving note in her voice.

Charles agreed. "Yeah, nowadays only those with money can afford to go to those snowy tourist attractions".

An expensive looking Rolls-Royce parked near the stairs. A familiar dark skinned man stepped out of the driver's seat and opened the door for a tall man, dressed in black suit and silvery mask, to step out. Charles vaguely wondered how Count managed to bear the heat.

_Maybe he has an air conditioner in his mask_, he thought.

Count Paradise rose the steps up to greet the two young persons. "Good day to you two. I hope you are all well and fine" he said.

Charles would have wanted to greet also but Maria jumped up to her feet and started to walk inside. "Fine, fine. So, you wanted to meet my father" she said, leading them inside.

"I trust you have warned your father of my arriving so suddenly" Count inquired.

"Not at all, but no need to worry. He never says 'no' to money" Maria said, her voice bitter.

Count didn't voice if he had noticed this or not. Charles was quite used to Maria despising her father. Instead he turned to Count, wanting to say something, but instead his eyes winded.

"Count, didn't you have a long hair when we last time met?" he asked, pointing Count's short, more lighter hair.

"I might have had" said a voice behind the mask.

Maria left Charles and Count to talk with each others, as she barged in, unannounced, to her father's office. Her father, Alan Cholet, was a small bald man with waxed moustache. He was sitting behind his desk, talking to a phone. He probably wouldn't have noticed Maria, if she hadn't taken the phone from him and closing the connection.

"Maria! I have no time to your fits now!" Alan burst.

"No worry, dad. I'm merely here to tell you that there's a rich foreign man named Count Paradise waiting to see you. You know the one who helped Charles in New Budapest" she said.

Cholet was annoyed. He nearly never paid any attention when Maria was talking about one of her friends. With his hand he tapped the name 'Count Paradise' in his computer and pressed search. His eyes winded when he saw the information he received, especially concerning the amounts of money Count spends monthly.

"Send him in!" he said, but saw that Maria was already heading to the door.

Outside the office Count was watching the wall covered with portraits of the former managers of the Opera house. Count was especially looking a picture of an old man with white hair and beard, dressed in a formal suit. Charles glance the small sign beneath the picture, which informed that this was the manger before Cholet.

"Father of one of your friends, isn't he?" Count asked.

Charles blinked and read the sign again. It said _**Gerard Carriere**_.

_Phillip's father? I wasn't aware of this. He barely ever talks about his family_.

Maria appeared from the office. "His Excellency is ready to see you" she said to the Count and then turned to Charles and practically dragged him away. "C'mon, Charles. Let's go to the river" she said.

"Er, um…yeah, okay" Charles was heard muttering as the two disappeared.

Count Paradise and Nadir stepped inside the office. Cholet rose from his desk and raised his hand.

"My dear Count, I am honoured by your visit. Please, sit down" he said and motioned for the seat other side the desk.

Count sat down, Nadir stood behind the seat like a bodyguard.

"So, monsieur count, how may a humble opera manager as myself be assistant to a music lover as you?" Cholet asked, smiling. After seeing the loads of money Count spends Cholet paid no attention to his mask.

"You already know about my passion, even when three minutes ago then you didn't know I was coming" Count said.

"I make it my business to know of people who wants to meet me" Cholet said.

"Well then, monsieur Cholet, I shall go right down to the point. I am a man of mood swings, sometimes rather absurd ones, and sometimes I feel, without any logical reason, to see an opera. The sad fact is that sometimes this happens in an inappropriate time. I might have seen advertises of Carmen being presented in your theatre and not once thinking of seeing it and then suddenly, five minutes before opening curtain I need to see it. Naturally then I have no ticket and seat and I get angry. Therefore I have come to make a proposition for you" the masked man.

Nadir opened a suitcase he had been holding and took out a single piece of document. Count took it and placed it before Cholet to his desk.

"That is a contract I'd like to make. Please, read it carefully".

Cholet took the document and read it. He blinked and read it twice. "Count, this highly…unusual. Never before have I even heard of a contract like this made with any opera company. Am I to understand that you'd like us to surrender ourselves under your whims? If I understood this correct, this contract gives you the power of having a private box during each performances, no matter if you attend or not. Not only that, but you'd have a power to change our cast or even program when you feel like, with one weeks warning".

"You have understood correctly. And it is box 5 that I'd like to have" masked man said.

Cholet gaped at him like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. "I'm sorry, Count, but you must have been joking. I mean, this completely out of the question. What made you think we would agree on this?" he asked.

Count snapped his fingers and Nadir opened the suitcase again, this time placing money on the desk.

"There is 15 million euros in cash, monsieur Cholet. Also, if you care to read the contract to the end, you'll notice that I have agreed to pay half of the costs during my stay. That means half of all the salaries and payments you have to pay" Count said.

There was a moment of pause when Cholet just stared the moneys on his desk. "That is just a token of gratitude for agreeing to surrender under my whims" Count explained. "So, do we have a deal?" he asked and if Cholet had paid more attention, he could have heard the smirk in his voice.

Instead Cholet, as if under some hypnosis, took his pen and signed the contract. Count then took the document and revealed it had a copy of it underneath it. "This will be your copy, monsieur Cholet. And this is mine" he said simply.

"I'm looking forward of working with you" Count said, as he and Nadir let the office.

Cholet stared at the millions on his desk, before grapping them, feeling them real and allowing a huge grin on his face and started laughing.

Count and Nadir walked the stairs down.

"See, Nadir? You can't buy love with money, but you can buy revenge with it. I think I'll settle with it".

**To be continued…**


	8. The Night in the Theatre

**Hey again!**

**Wow, thank you for all the reviews I receive. There are not much so I appreciate every one of them. Few more people have added this story to their alert list, I wouldn't mind hearing their opinions also. **

**Those of you who have seen the 1990 mini-series starring Charles Dance will probably recognise the first dialogue of this chapter. I thought it was so funny that I had to have it. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 8 The Night in the Theatre

"Darling, tell me the truth. How do I look?"

"You look like a spring".

Sigh.

"You look like a young spring".

Another sigh.

"Like a spring that is not even yet a spring. Like a spring that is about to become a spring. Like winter-"

GASP!

"Oh, no. You are spring, my love".

Maria Cholet resisted the urge to vomit after seeing yet another hideous encounter with her parents. Her father, the opera manger Alan Cholet, was currently flattering his wife, the diva Carlotta, who was about to appear on stage. She was dressed in something what was probably suppose to be the maiden outfit, but didn't really suit her. Carlotta Cholet was a very talented singer who, unfortunately, was aware of this and therefore tended to become rather nasty if someone questioned her.

With as little noise as possible, Maria slipped out of the dressing room and ventured to the lobby, where there already was a great mass of people waiting to get to the auditorium. She looked around her, trying to find any familiar faces, she knew that Charles and Harry at least would come. From the corner of her eye she registered a familiar blonde hair. Maria turned to see Megan d'Arcy walking, almost running, through the crowds. It took a minute for Maria to realise that a young man was after her.

"Meg, please, wait up…"

"Don't be so loud, Phillip, they may hear us".

"Let them hear. I'm through with us being secret. Don't run anymore, Meg, I beg of you".

"Please, not here. There are people who might see. If my father finds out…"

"I can talk to him…"

"He'd have you shot at dawn. He's determined of me marrying Harry Hunter. Stupid mistake…it was only once…"

Maria could hear no more what they were talking about. Meg d'Arcy and the man she recognised as Phillip Carriere had walked too far from her and disappeared in the crowd. Maria turned around and saw Charles de Chagny and Harry Hunter coming towards her.

"Good evening, Maria dear! You look as lovely as ever!" Harry greeted her with a big grin.

"Womanizer as always, I see. You should keep your voice down, I saw your fiancée just a moment ago here" Maria said and saw how a dark shadow crossed Harry's face.

"Has Count Paradise arrived yet? I heard he'd attend tonight" Charles said.

"Haven't seen him, unless he came without a mask" Maria said. Then there was a sound of clock coming from the ceilings. Signal for people to move to their seats. Charles went first to take their places. Harry put a hand of Maria's shoulder to keep her a step behind.

"What do you think of this Count Paradise fellow?" he asked.

Maria was surprised by the seriousness of his voice. She thought for a moment before answering. "I think he is a very clever man who doesn't reveal his true motives but hides them behind a well practised theatrical façade".

"My thoughts exactly. Charles is completely blinded by that façade. He would probably run down a cliff if the Count asked him to. I mean sure, it's great he helped Charles in New Budapest but…I just don't trust to guy, that's all. And neither should you" Harry said.

Maria thought about his words, as she watched Charles taking his seat and motioning them to come. Along with Harry, Charles had always been her dearest childhood friend, like a little brother she never had. She saw clearly how much Charles admired this Count, and wondered how devastating it would be if Count really was using Charles to achieve some unknown purpose of his. If that is the truth then how does the deal with her father fit into it?

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a collective gasps. She looked around to see nearly everyone in the theatre looking at box 5. She looked too and saw that Count Paradise, dressed in black tuxedo and white mask, his hair long again, had arrived. However, it was not the Count who had all the attention this time. It was his companion.

The girl couldn't have been more than 18 years old. Judging by her features she was not European, or at least had eastern bloodlines. She was dressed in green kimono with red dragons in it, tailored specifically for her. Her skin was chestnut brown, which made an incredible contrast to her silvery blond hair, which reached hips. She could only be described as beautiful.

Maria glanced to Harry and nearly jumped out of fright seeing his somewhat comical expression. He looked at the young girl in Count's box in complete awe. He would probably drool soon. Through out the entire opera Maria could hear Harry whispering to Charles to find out who the girl was. Is she Count's sister, cousin, mistress, wife, who?

After the final curtain, with applauds quieting down, Maria excused herself and ventured back to her mothers dressing room. With a well rehearsed manner she hugged her mother and said "Congratulations, mom. You were incredible".

Carlotta laughed with delight. "Of course I was, sweetie. Mommy always has been the best" she said, while hugging back her daughter.

There was a knock on the door. Alan Cholet opened it and in came the dark skinned servant of Count Paradise.

"Sorry for the intrusion, but milord, Count Paradise, send me to bring his immediate congratulations for the diva and telling he enjoyed her performance greatly" Nadir said.

A rosy colour appeared to Carlotta's cheeks. "Oh, you can tell him that I am grateful for such kind words".

"Also, milord would like to show his appreciation for you" he said and handed a black box to Carlotta.

Carlotta took it and a huge smile covered her face when she saw what was inside. She took out a diamond necklace with a big great ruby in it. She immediately waltzed to the mirror and held it in front of her.

"It's beautiful. It's perfect! That Count really something! Ah, I'm so glad you met him, dear! Look at the size of this thing! I'm sure Countess de Chagny doesn't have anything like this!" she ranted.

"And this is for Monsieur Cholet" Nadir said and handed a check to the man.

Cholet's eyes winded when he looked at the check and Maria could swear his waxed moustache were doing some sort of victory dance on his face. Cholet put the check in his pocket, and kept a hand on that pocket as if afraid someone might steal the check.

Both of Maria's parents were so bought buy the presents that they didn't notice how Nadir bowed and walked out of the room. Maria followed him and called him to stop.

"Excuse me but who was the young woman accompanying Count tonight?" she asked.

"The last of the royal bloodline, Princess Ayesha" Nadir said, his voice filled with respect.

"A princess?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. The Count is her guardian" Nadir said, then bowed and disappeared.

Maria watched as the dark skinned man disappeared and thought about the beautiful woman in Count's box. _If Count is her guardian then does that mean she is an orphan, _Maria thought. _And the descendant of a royal bloodline, he said? _

Maria realised she was standing in the middle of the hallway and thought what to do. She decided against going back to her mother's dressing room. She couldn't take any more of their plain showing love of wealth and money. She decided to find Harry and Charles instead. Harry would appreciate the info she had augured.

Unknown to her a two pair of eyes were watching her.

"That is the mademoiselle Cholet" said the dark skinned man to another one. "Your mission concerns her greatly".

**To be continued… **


	9. House of d'Arcy

**Okay, this chapter is more just to introduce these characters, but there are few important hints there also, concerning the past of the characters.**

**All reviews are appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 9 House of d'Arcy

It wasn't really the defence fault. They did their best, aimed for the lowest sentence possible. They had evidence, they had speech, they had credibility. But it was all waste when the opponent was Lord Ambrose d'Arcy.

Ambrose d'Arcy had started his career among police forces little before the World War III. He had soon become the head of the investigation department dedicated to find traitors and other war criminals outside the battlefields. After the war had ended he had moved from police forces to the law and become lawyer. There his career had just been going up and nowadays he was the chief prosecutor of the court of Paris. Due to his English bloodlines he had earned the title of 'the Lord' and was expected to become judge in the near future.

In the courtrooms he had earned many nicknames, such as "the Iron will d'Arcy" and "Ambrose the Executioner", due to the fact that he always won his cases and got the penalty to the accused he wanted, mostly life in prison or execution. So it really shouldn't have been a surprise that the defence lost again today.

His daughter, Meg d'Arcy, knew all this. So one might wonder how she could think she was able to change his mind in the matter of her engagement.

"But father!" Meg desperately cried in her father's office.

The cold eyes of a tall, skinny man with already greyish hair hardly even looked at her behind the desk when he spoke.

"I see no further point of discussing this anymore, Megan. You had your fun and now you must pay the price. That's the way the world goes" Ambrose d'Arcy said.

"But Harry and I do not love each others!" Meg cried.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have slept with him then" was the cold reply.

Meg felt her lip trembling and tears piercing her eyes. "Father, please…it was only once".

"And it was once too much, considering the damn paparazzi managed to catch a picture of you two. I'm grateful that it was one of those freelancers instead of that Andre fellow. God, the whole Paris would have never let us lived it down then".

"But father, it doesn't concern you! It's me they'd slander-"

"Are you truly so naïve, Meg, or just plain stupid? Anything, everything even remotely concerning you affects me also. Do you honestly think that when press finds that the daughter of chief prosecutor got drunk and screwed with her friend it would go unnoticed? The least you can do to save us from this mess is getting married with Harry Hunter and become an honourable woman!" d'Arcy shouted, now in full rage.

Meg couldn't help but shrink under her fathers piercing gaze.

"Now leave me, Megan. I have a man to send to gas chamber" he said and that was the end of it.

Meg walked the stairs of the courtroom down, trying to look as decent as she possibly could.

"I take it he still won't listen" said a voice.

Meg turned around to see-

"Phillip! You scared the hell out of me!" she said angrily.

"Sorry" was the sheepish reply.

Meg suddenly gasped. "What are you doing here, anyway? Anyone could see you…" she said and pulled Phillip to leave.

"Then let them see, for God's sake! This satire has gone on far too long for my taste. Let me talk to your father-"

"NO! Good Lord, Phillip, do you want to end up in gas chamber? You don't know my father. Reputation is everything to him and he'll be damned before he lets anything ruin it".

"But what thread am I to him?"

"You would try to make him agree of cancelling the engagement between Harry and I. He will not let that happen, believe me".

"But you don't actually want to end up marrying this Hunter guy, do you?" Phillip asked with an edge of fear in his voice.

Meg looked at him straight in the eyes. "No, I don't. I love you, Phillip. I want you, not Harry. I'm sorry…I'm sorry I screwed everything so badly" she said.

Phillip pulled her to a hug. "Hey, we've talked about this already. I don't hate you for this. But we need to find someway to end this before it's too late. This Harry Hunter, does he want to marry you?" he asked.

Meg shook her head against his shoulder. "No, he's happier as a single".

"The Count Paradise has invited me to his new Paris residence along with Charles de Chagny and Harry Hunter. If I'd talk to him, do you think he'd help us?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't have anything against it. But be sure of whom you talk to. We can't afford of my father knowing about you".

"I'll be careful".

With a one last kiss they parted.

About half an hour later, Meg found herself back in her home, the d'Arcy residence. In there she felt very much alien. Ever since her mother had died few years back, her father seemed to have removed everything that reminded him of her out of the house. Nowadays house looked very clinic, empty and lifeless.

In her home the only one she could turn to was her grandmother Francesca Giry, mainly known as Madame Giry. She might seem like a harmless, old relic to others, but Meg knew that she had will maybe even stronger that her fathers. Madame Giry was Lord d'Arcy's mother-in-law, and the two had never come along well. He had taken the elder woman living in his house because of his wife. However, after the death of his wife he had been unable to get rid of Madame Giry. What would the world think if he'd kick an old woman in a wheelchair out of his house?

Madame Giry had lost her control over her legs during the war. She sometimes told stories to Meg about the war, how she had fought trying to stop the monarchy coming back to power, to stop even more bloodshed than was necessary. But she had been on a wrong side and only her connections to Ambrose d'Arcy had kept her alive. Therefore she was in dept, which she was ashamed of.

"Good afternoon, grandma" Meg said as she entered the part of the house known as _Madame Giry's territory_.

"Good afternoon, Meg. Dear girl, what is wrong? Your father still refuses to see reason and end that engagement?" Madame Giry said.

Meg felt slightly taken back by how easily her grandmother read her. "No, he still insists it's for the good of the family".

"Good for him, maybe. Family, I'm not so sure. The man has always been so stubborn and this is not even the worst from his part" Madame said, spitefully. There were a lot of bad things she could say about Ambrose d'Arcy, but for Meg's sake she always closed her mouth before it was too late.

"Grandma, do you think I'm going to come through this mess?" Meg asked.

Madame Giry was quiet for a time before answering. "Yes, my dear, you will. You see, even weaker people than you have come through much more difficult situations than what you are in. Don't worry, everything will be better. You'll see".

Meg always found her grandmother reassuring. Maybe it was the years she had spent in a war or the years before that when she had worked in the Opera Populaire, but she had that air of authority in her that left no room for questions.

"Thank you, grandmother. Thank you" Meg said.

"Anytime, dear. Anytime".

Meg turned to go to her room, but just before leaving she looked at the picture on the table. It was from her grandmothers youth before the war, taken when she worked in the Opera Populaire. She saw her grandmother, not a young girl anymore, but younger than now, full of life and standing. Next to her was Phillip's father, Gerard Carriere, in the prime of his life, few years before Phillip was born.

And there were two other people also. One was young Countess of de Chagny, who had sung at the opera. The other was a young man with hand around her waist. Meg didn't know who he was.

**To be continued…**


	10. Toccata and Fugue in D Minor

**Hei, as we in Finland say. **

**Big thanks to all who've reviewed and given support. It always help when writing the next chapter. **

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 10 Toccata and Fugue in D Minor

"Is this the right address?"

Charles de Chagny, Harry Hunter, Phillip Carriere and Gilles Andre stood before a building that, according to the introduction, was supposed to be Count Paradise's residence. Yet, they hardly could believe that. The building was old and certainly didn't look like something where a rich noble man would want to live. In fact it seemed to be one of those buildings that should have been ripped to pieces decades ago then but was now occupied by homeless people.

"Your count certainly has an eccentric taste" Andre said dryly and light himself a smoke.

"I…this must be a mistake. We must have a wrong address. I can't believe Count Paradise would lower himself to live in there" Charles de Chagny said.

"But Charles, the address is right" Phillip said, looking at the letter he had received from the Count.

"I knew he was a fraud" Harry said under his breath.

Suddenly the old doors opened before them and out came none other than Count's dark skinned companion, Nadir.

"Welcome, young gentlemen. My lord, the Count, welcomes you to his house. Please, enter" he said.

Looking somewhat hesitant, the four men started to walk forward to the building that looked like ready to collapse any given minute. When they had entered they realised that the interiors of the house were no better than façade. The hallway, if you can call it that, was dirty, smelling and had pieces of glass and other junk all over it. Kids had painted the walls with spray paint.

Nadir led them through the hallway to an elevator which, compared to everything else, on the other hand was in perfect condition and walking in to it was a relief to all four of them. Nadir pressed the button and soon the elevator started to go, to everyone's surprise, down. All had thought it was only logical to go up.

When the elevator doors opened they were greeted with an almost dream like sight. They were obviously below the streets of Paris, all around of them were brick walls and before them was a lake. An underground lake, that seemed to have a beautiful blue glow in it. The walls were decorated with candles so it was very easy to see in, what would otherwise be pitch black, tunnel.

"Where are we?" Charles asked in utter astonishment and wonder.

"In ancient catacombs, that goes all around the underground Paris. They were built in the Middle Ages" Andre said, throwing his smoke away and taking a picture.

"If you'd be good enough to climb aboard" Nadir said and indicated the boat in the lake.

All four men sat down on the boat and Nadir started to row it through the tunnels. Charles, Phillip, Harry and Andre looked with bewilderment of the magical surroundings. Then suddenly they heard music. First they had to listen very carefully to hear it, but soon it became apparent that they were approaching the source of the sound. As the music became clearer they saw their destination. In the end of the tunnel they saw a house, or at least what seemed to be door and two windows in the stone wall. Nadir brought the boat to the shore and four men jumped off. This close Charles, who had been close to music all his life due to his mother, was able to recognise the piece.

"Toccata and Fugue in D Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach" he muttered more to himself than anyone else.

The door opened and bright light greeted them. Out came the other servant of the Count, Lajos. He was dress in identical black suit as Nadir. Without saying anything he indicated the men to come in. When they entered not one was able to hold a gasp. They had entered to a house that would satisfy even the most demanding emperor. The cold stone floors were covered with carpets of the orient countries. The walls were covered with different paintings from the ancient masters of Japan to Michelangelo and Hieronymus Bosch. There were also paintings of expressionism and portraits and pictures of the great composers and actors of the previous centuries.

In the end of the great hall was a huge pipe organ that covered the entire back wall and before it sat Count Paradise, playing Bach's composition in complete trance. He had his back to them so they couldn't see his face, or what kind of mask he happened to have now. He was dress in dark red coat.

In a chair near organs sat a young woman with hazel skin and silvery-blonde hair. Her green eyes looked at the four men and she raised one finger to her lips to silence them. She just sat there listening, mesmerised. She waited until Count came to the end, until the last breath had been pulled out of the organs. The woman stood up, filled a glass with wine and brought to Count who drank deeply.

"My lord, your visitors have arrived" she said softly.

The reaction was immediate. Count jumped up and turned to them, revealing his bronze coloured mask. "My young friends, welcome! Welcome! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long" said his rich voice coming through his mask.

"Oh, not at all, Count. In fact we just arrived to hear the end of your beautiful playing" Charles hurried to say.

"Music to me is one of the many ways to escape this world and its brutal reality. Music offers me temporary freedom to see the world as I wish to see it. You could say that for me it is like dreaming, since I haven't been able to dream for years" Count said.

This declaration was so sudden that Charles didn't know how to answer. Sensing his discomfort and sudden opportunity, Harry spoke. He looked at the young woman and spoke as respectably as he could.

"Do we have an honour to be in the company of Princess Ayesha?" he asked.

Ayesha seemed to be startled to hear her name spoken. Count spoke to her softly. "No need to stay quiet, my dear. Our visitors have come to see us, after all" he said.

Ayesha bowed to Harry. "I am Ayesha" she said, "nice to meet you Mr. Hunter".

Harry felt his cheeks to warm in a way they hadn't in years. "The pleasure is all mine" he said.

"Are you the relative of the Count" Andre asked, who was not known for his subtlety but knew that asking "are you his mistress" was out of question.

"Not by blood, but my lord is the only family I have" she spoke, admiring eyes looking at the count.

"Now, please, join me to the table" Count said and indicated a huge table filled with food.

Once they were seated down and plates filled with food, Phillip couldn't help but ask. "Count, may I ask what you meant when you said in your invitation, that you invited me because you wanted to get to know me because of a mutual friend?"

"Ah, well you see, the name Carriere is not stranger to me. Your father Gerard Carriere was a manger of the Opera Populaire before Monsieur Cholet, was he not?"

"Yes, but how do you…?"

"I heard about your father from the mutual friend of ours, Mr. Sandor Korvin, a man who has been good enough to advice me in some of my businesses" Count said.

"Mr. Korvin? He is the man who saved my father from complete bankruptcy two years ago then. If you are a friend of his then I am honoured and would like to know you also" Phillip said.

Charles smiled. It was exciting to learn more about the Count and see more of his friends starting to warm up to him. Charles knew that Harry still didn't trust him and was little upset by this. However, at the moment it seemed Harry's attention was not with the Count, but with the young woman sitting beside the Count. While Count was talking with Andre, who was smoking his third smoke already, Phillip noticed this also.

"Hunter, it's quite ill-mannered to drool after another woman when you are already engaged" Phillip whispered to Harry.

"I'm not by my own will" Harry absentmindedly answered.

"Then break the engagement".

"I've tried, but you don't know how hard headed my future father-in-law is".

"So you are just going to get married with her and then cheat her while you can" Phillip now hissed through his teeth in anger.

"It's not something I want, believe me it's not. But marriages nowadays hardly have any love at all in them. I know this and so should she".

Suddenly there was a sudden sound of Phillip's fist connecting with Harry's face. Time seemed to slow as Harry fell to the floor and looked at Phillip, whose eyes seemed to burn.

"HUNTER! I CHALLENGE YOU TO DUEL!"

**To be continued…**

**I couldn't resist having Count playing Bach. In 1962 Hammer POTO version Phantom, played by Herbert Lom, also played that piece. **


	11. The Duel

**Hey everyone!**

**Okay, this is hardly my best chapter, but I'm glad to see that at least three readers have been kept interested by this story of mine. Hope you'll enjoy it more!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 11 The Duel

A silence filled the room. Every eye was directed to Phillip Carriere, still standing above Harry Hunter. Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to smile and say "Just kidding" and helping Harry up from the floor. But no such smile or word came from Phillip. Charles de Chagny, too nerved by the sudden heavy mood, tried to act diplomatically.

"Heh heh, good one, Phillip. No one saw that coming, I'm sure. For a moment I believed you myself" he said, laughing nervously.

Count Paradise's voice was calm and perfectly steady when he spoke. "I'm afraid, Charles, that our friend here is quite serious. Or am I wrong, Monsieur Carriere?"

Phillip still kept his gaze on Harry when he spoke. "You're not wrong, Count. I challenged Hunter and I intend stand behind my words" he spoke sternly. Then he spoke to Harry, who was looking at him with utmost disbelief. "Well, Hunter? Will you accept my challenge, or aren't you man enough for that?"

Harry's expression turned from disbelief to fury and anger. He stood up and faced Phillip. "I accept your challenge, Carriere!" he said.

"Harry!" Charles shouted in despair.

"Are you two out of your minds?!" Gilles Andre protested, for once his smoke forgotten.

A sudden sound of clapping shut his mouth. All men turned to see Count clapping his gloved hands together. "This is truly wonderful. To have such an old tradition still living. Truly wonderful. Then, gentlemen, please come. Nadir shall give you your weapons and you may start" he said, voice filled with amusement.

Now both Phillip and Harry looked the masked man with surprise. "Now?" someone asked, no one sure who.

"But of course. Delaying it would probably just give you unwanted anxious and sleepless nights. Better would have it done with now. But not in this room. I want to keep it clean. So then, Mr. Hunter, you are the offended party. You may choose the weapons. Guns or swords?" Count asked.

Harry was too startled to say anything. He glanced at Phillip who also seemed stunned by Count's words. However, when Phillip noticed Harry looking at him, his eyes turned to challenging and hard ones again.

"Swords" Harry said, feeling irritated and angry. He didn't know if Carriere was good with swords but he knew that he himself was brilliant. Much better than with guns.

Count snapped his fingers. "Arrange it, Nadir" he said to the dark skinned man in the corner of the room, whom no one had noticed before this moment to even be in the room. "So, if you would be good enough to follow me to the training room" he said and offered his hand to his young protégé, Princess Ayesha, who put her own hand to his gloved one without hesitation.

The group of stunned men followed them obediently.

The training room, as Count had called it, looked pretty much like average school gym, except it lacked the basket balls and other sport stuff. It was a huge space of room with nothing in it. Lajos was there arranging four chairs in the back. Count and Ayesha went to chairs and sat down. Count motioned for Charles and Andre to follow.

"Take a seat, please. No need to watch the show and not get comfortable" said the voice behind the mask.

"Show? Count, you can't be serious with this!" Andre shouted. Charles was too stunned to say anything.

"But of course I am, Monsieur Andre. The duel between two gentlemen is not something to be taken lightly. We must respect their decision and see the outcome. Who knows, you may even get a good story of this" Count added the last bit with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Once again the Count had managed to leave Andre without a snappy comment. Closing his mouth Andre sat down.

By this time Nadir had given both Phillip and Harry a sword. For a moment the two men just stared at them, seizing them and giving them a few swings. Then they gave their swords to each others and checked the opponent's sword was just the same. After a while they had confirmed them and changed again.

Both young men took their jackets off and then went to their positions opposite each others. They kept a distance between them, only the tips of the swords were in the touching range. The entire time seemed to stop for Charles who, holding his breath, was waiting to see what would happen.

"They're not actually having…_real _swords, are they?" Charles asked with a shushed voice.

There was a low chuckle heard from under the mask and Count's voice whispered back. "But, Charles, it wouldn't be interesting at all if they did have" he said.

Charles gulped.

No one was quite sure which one moved first, but suddenly the room was filled with noises of swords clanging against each other and Harry and Phillip were fighting. The swords hit, they charged, retreated, took defensive and moved with an obvious training. Harry quickly noticed a disadvantage of his. While he too had been trained with swords and guns as anyone in army, he had allowed his skills to rust. Phillip however, had just ended his army few weeks back. Phillip noticed this too and smirked.

"Seems as if you haven't been doing this lately. Pity, I would have at least hoped you to be worthy adversary" Phillip said and charged.

"Yeah, well some of us like to have life other than military" Harry said while being busy defending himself.

"Ah, yes, like getting your face in the front page and being forced to marry a girl, who was too naïve for her own good!" Phillip snarled, charging again.

Harry noticed that Phillip was loosing his temper. And an angry man always made mistakes. So he decided to rub it a little.

"What's the matter with that, then? You've been really mental ever since we spoke of my engagement with Mademoiselle d'Arcy. Are you jealous that she'll be soon Mrs. Hunter?" Harry asked.

A roar, that would have made a lion go whimpering under a rock, escaped from Phillip's lips and he charged blindly towards Harry. Who managed to step aside and allow Phillip to go pass with full speed and fell to the floor, sword flying away from his reach. Phillip rolled to his back, ready to jump up, when he felt Harry's blade on his throat. He had lost.

"Tell me, Carriere, are you in love with Megan d'Arcy?" Harry asked, low enough for only Phillip to hear.

Phillip swallowed his bitterness and his pride. "Yes" he whispered.

The blade disappeared and Harry extended his hand, a smile on his face. "Then our interests are same and instead of fighting we should be helping each others" he said softly.

Phillip looked him in amazement and then slowly took his hand and stood up. "Thank you" he said. "And sorry for this trouble" he added loudly enough for others to hear.

Charles and Andre both sighed in relief. "I'm glad that's over" Charles said, sunken to his chair.

"Did you enjoy the show, my dear?" Count asked from Princess Ayesha.

"Yes, my lord. And I'm happy to see that Mr. Hunter had it in him to offer the truce instead of striking the final blow" the young woman said, turning her eyes to Harry.

"Oh, that's nothing" Harry laughed nervously and lowered his head so no one would see the scarlet colour of his face.

Count Paradise rose up and clapped his hands. "The show has provided us entertainment. Now I'm sure everyone would appreciate to get back to the table and empty the plates we left there" he said.

Charles came to him, beaming. "Count, you knew they would settle their differences didn't you? That's why you allowed this to happen" he said in awe.

Count chuckled. "Charles, I'm hardly a fortune teller. If I was I'd have chose my friends better in my past. No, I simply saw an opportunity to arrange something we all would remember for the rest of our lives. I did suspect though that neither would really kill the other" said the calm voice behind the mask.

The rest of the evening was spent with no episodes of duels or fights anymore. While evening came to an end Charles saw that Phillip and Harry almost behaved like close brothers. When they did left it was with Count's invitations to his house in the country side, where he was going to invite the families of de Chagny, Cholet and d'Arcy.

**To be continued…**


	12. The Villa

**Thanks for all the reviews! They make me really happy!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 12 The Villa

Just as Count had said he invited the houses of de Chagny, D'Arcy and Cholet to his house in the country side. The house he had bought was an old villa, probably build before the war. It was easy to see that Count had arranged some redecorating for it, the house must have been nearly falling apart when he bought it.

"Well, at least it's above the ground" Charles de Chagny thought.

Nadir was on the door to guide the quests to the great hall, where many tables had been arranged already. As Count Raoul de Chagny, Countess Christine and their son Charles entered they saw that all the others had already arrived. In one table sat the chief prosecutor Lord Ambrose d'Arcy and his daughter Megan. In another table sat Alan Cholet, his wife Carlotta and their daughter Maria. In the third table sat Harry Hunter and Phillip Carriere. The family of de Chagny sat to the fourth table.

No live band could be seen anywhere but Count had arrange music to be heard from the walls. Count Paradise himself appeared little later, dressed in black tuxedo and white mask. He raised his hands the music quieted down considerably.

"Welcome to my house. Enter freely and leave some of the happiness that you bring" he said.

"So he's Count Dracula really" Harry muttered under his breath.

"I'm so glad that you have all come here. I am still considerably new in Paris and to have you all answered to my invitations makes me happy. I'm glad to say that I have already made some friends and business partners in this lovely city" he said. "I'm also glad that, although I'm a stranger to them, the chief prosecutor and his lovely daughter have also joined us".

Ambrose d'Arcy didn't say anything. In fact if it hadn't been for de Chagny and Cholet families to come here also, he would have passed. He never trusted to a man by first sight, especially to one with a mask. Not to mention to man had invited him to….this house.

"Now, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine" Count said and turned around to the door, motioning that somebody should come it. Harry half expected to see that beautiful young princess again, but was disappointed to see a young man appearing. The man had black hair and little moustache, dark eyes and was dressed very finely.

"This is Anatole Garron, ladies and Gentlemen, the grand-son of Duke Alistair Garron" Count said. Immediately the mood change in different tables. Garron was a name to known to have great influence in Europe. It is said that they were one of the few families to have been rich before and after the war.

"Good evening, every one" Anatole said, creating a smile that some would say to be dashing, others a lecherous.

"The Duke trusted me to introduce Anatole to the society of Paris. Since I'm new to it myself I'm happy that all of you came, making this a much easier task for me" Count Paradise said. Then he walked to the table of Cholets. "If you wouldn't mind, maybe young Anatole could sit with you this evening" he said.

"Not at all, Count, not at all" Alan Cholet said. He had heard rumours of the riches of Garron family. Just thinking about them almost made him drool.

Anatole sat opposite Cholet, between Carlotta and Maria. He introduced himself to everyone, holding Maria's hand in his own a little longer than she felt comfortable with.

Charles happened to see this from his table. For some reason he felt irritated about it.

Count stood behind Cholet and whispered to him. "Anatole has expressed his interest in the world of opera and I thought it would benefit us all if he would act as my representative in opera whenever I feel I need to talk with you" he said.

Cholet still wasn't fine with the deal they made. It basically put him and the Opera Populaire in mercy of Count's whims. However, Count Paradise and the heir of Garron fortune…who could resist? "Naturally, Count. That is a great idea".

"Are you not feeling well, Madame?" Anatole asked from Carlotta, who wasn't her usual laughing and shinning self. The moment they had sat down she had kept filling and refilling her glass of wine. But no laughter came out of her. Even Maria found this to be very odd behaviour from her mother.

"I'm fine. I just haven't had the best of days" she said, forcing a smile to her face. Truth to be told she hadn't felt good at all ever since they received their invitation here.

_This house…why is it still standing? Why hasn't it been ripped to pieces already? Just erased from the face of the earth? Why did Count have to buy this house? From all the villas in France why did he chose this one? Why did he invite me here? And him? Does he know? No, that couldn't b, there's no way he could know. It's been nearly twenty years already, surely he can't know. _

In another table Phillip and Harry were having a conversation. Or more Phillip was pushing Harry while he was trying to get himself drunk.

"C'mon, Harry, stop that. We can't face d'Arcy if you're drunk" Phillip said.

"You think I'm gonna face him sober? You obviously don't know the man. And what was our plan once again?"

"We're going to go there together and make it clear to him that you and Meg have no wish to be married".

Harry looked Phillip like an idiot. "That's your master plan? We're going to get ourselves executed and Meg will be sent to a monastery. Phillip, you're an idiot".

Phillip was quiet for the moment. "Do you have a better plan?"

Harry drank his wine glass empty. "No, let's go" he said and stood up. Together the two young men made their way to the table of d'Arcy.

When Meg saw them approaching a look of pure horror and terror crossed her face and she tried to send all the silent signals saying _don't you dare to do it!_

Ambrose d'Arcy noticed the two also. "What do you want, Hunter?" he said coldly.

"Well, for starters good evening to you, sir" he said lamely, loosing his courage under the cold stare of chief prosecutor. "Uhm, this is Phillip Carriere, I don't believe you've met".

d'Arcy looked at Phillip. "No, I don't believe we've had the pleasure" he said coldly.

Phillip spoke. "Sir, I'm a friend of your daughters-"

"If your business is something to do of trying to change my mind of whom my daughter must marry, you're wasting our time here. Now leave or I'll have you arrested and don't think I can't come up with something" Ambrose d'Arcy said, each of his words piercing like ice.

"But, sir-"

Whatever Phillip was about to say was lost when Count Paradise suddenly walked to the middle of tables and raised his hands to have full attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? Don't think of me as such a poor host who would only invite you to offer drinks and food. There's something very special which I'd like to share with you all. It is something to do with this house" he said.

The entire room fell to silence. Ambrose d'Arcy was looking Count sceptically, Carlotta Cholet felt cold sweat on her forehead.

"When I was looking for a house for my self from the country side I wanted to have a modern house, not some which would need a great deal of work to make itself looking like a house again. I was told that no-one had live in this house since the war started and my first reaction was not to buy this house. However, after I had spent little time inside it, I was attracted to its atmosphere and feeling it gave. I could almost imagine the people who had lived here before and what they had done. So attracted I was that I paid a good price to find out about the past of this house" the voice behind the mask said.

"However, what I found was something I could never have imagined and the story of this house is something I feel like I'm obliged to share with you tonight" he said.

"What did you find out?" Charles asked.

There was silence before Count slowly answered.

"Inside the walls of this house…the most despicable crime has been committed" he said.

Ambrose d'Arcy closed his fists tightly and bit his teeth. Carlotta gasped.

_He knows! He knows! He knows! He knows! He knows! HE KNOWS!!!_

**To be continued…**


	13. The Dark Past of the Villa

**Hey everyone! **

**Thank you so much for all the reviews. This story seems to be doing rather well, I'm used to having only two readers (though they are two most wonderful readers I could ask for). Anyway, tell me what you like this. I think this is one of my better ones in this story. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 13 The Dark Past of the Villa

"Inside the walls of this house…the most despicable crime has been committed".

The silence that followed Count Paradise's words was so deep that you could have heard feather hitting the floor. All Count's quests were looking at him now: Charles de Chagny, his parents Christine and Raoul de Chagny, Harry Hunter, Phillip Carriere, Meg d'Arcy and her father Lord Ambrose d'Arcy, Maria Cholet and her parents Carlotta and Alan Cholet, and a young man named Anatole Garron. It was Anatole who broke the silence.

"A crime, you said?" he asked with obvious curiosity in his voice.

"Exactly. Almost 20 years ago then, just when the war had ended and the Europe was uniting itself to become the ruling continent, an evil crime was committed in this house" the deep voice from behind the mask said. "Please, follow me and I'll explain it to you in detail. However, if you have a weak stomach I suggest you'll stay and eat, for this story might make you loose your appetite" he said.

Needless to say, everyone stood up. However, in the table of Cholets, it took longer than usual for Carlotta to stand up.

"Mother, are you alright?" Maria asked.

"Yes, yes, of course I am, I just probably ate something that doesn't suit me" Carlotta said, forcing a smile.

"Well, come on then, I want to hear this" Alan Cholet said, practically dragging them.

The quests followed Count to the upstairs in where they noticed Count hadn't rebuild the place as much as downstairs. Somewhere on the way Phillip and Meg managed to escape from the crowd and, much to Meg's surprise, without being noticed by her father. At the moment Lord Ambrose was solemnly concentrating on the Count.

Count led the people he had invited to a room. It used to be a bedroom and in this room Count hadn't change a thing. The decade walls, furniture's covered by dust and an old bed was all there was to see. Count pointed the bed. "This is where it happened" he said.

"As I said it took place almost 20 years ago then. The war had ended and the strong nation, now known as the United Europe, was building itself. Times were chaotic and the masses of people looked up to few individuals who would lead them to a new time. The men just as you" he said. "The leading man of this horrifying story was a man like that. He was helping the super nation to be build and was having a bright and promising future ahead of him. However, unknown to people he was secretly seeing another man's wife. They came to this house whenever they wanted to satisfy their lust".

"Let me guess: the husband found out, followed them here, and murdered them while they were making love in this bed" Harry said in a somewhat bored tone, earning a glare from Charles.

Count chuckled. "I'm afraid no, Mr. Hunter. This is not a typical detective story. But as always, something did go wrong: the woman became pregnant".

Carlotta's soft gasp was mistaken for a surprise created by this cliffy in a story. Lord Ambrose cursed her in his mind. _Why doesn't she just broadcast to them?!_

"These two people were indeed in important ranks so they couldn't deal with the situation as normal people would. In the end it became to it that they both moved here for the last months of the pregnancy and laboured the child here, in this very room, on this bed" Count said and again pointed the bed.

_The sound of rain hitting the earth was so loud that no poor bastard walking outside the house could possibly hear the woman's screams from inside. She lay on the bed, naked, sweaty, holding the sheets in a grip that could break bones. She screamed. _

"_One more time! The head is already out, just one more time still!"_

_With her lust strength she gave a push and heard a cry. A baby's cry. That was the last thing she heard before everything went black. _

_When she regained some of her consciousness she realised that she had been covered with a warm blanket. Tiredly she moved her head to look around. She saw the doctor they had quietly hired to take care of her shaking hands with him, the man who was now he father of her child. The child…_

_She moved her head around to see where the baby was but couldn't found it. _

"_My baby…" she said weakly, her voice quiet and throat dry. _

_The man glanced at her and left the room. The doctor came to her. "You should rest, Madame. You need to gather your strength" he said. _

"_My baby…where is my baby?"_

"_I'm afraid your baby is dead. He was stillborn" the doctor said. _

"_No…that can't be true…I heard it crying…where is my baby? What have you done to my baby?" she panicked, tried to get up but the doctor pushed her down. _

"_Your imagination played tricks on you. I'm going to give you something that will help you sleeping" he said. _

_She felt tears in her eyes. "No…my baby…"_

"The woman gave birth right here, on this bed", Count continued, "and hardly had the baby had its first breath taken, when it was already taken from its mother. Father, to his great pleasure, found the baby dead. He wrapped the small corpse in a rag and then put the baby in an old wooden box he found. Then he carried the box out of the house".

Count motioned his quests to follow him as he walked out of the room, stairs down and out to the garden. As they were walking, Anatole leaned closer to Maria to whisper something.

"Is it normal for your mother to look like she was having a strike?" he whispered so close to her that Maria felt his breath on her ear. She didn't like it that much.

However, when she did look her mother she was shocked to see that the great La Carlotta was as white as a cartoon ghost and had some sweat on her forehead. "Mother, are you alright?" Maria asked again, this time truly worried.

Carlotta noticed the people staring at her. For a second she met the gaze of Lord Ambrose and then pulled herself together. "Of course, dear. As I said, I just had something bad for lunch".

"The fresh air will do good for you, Madame" Anatole said, smiling to Carlotta.

The group arrived behind the house to the small garden and stop in front of an old tree. "The father brought the wooden box here and buried it under this tree. He was certain that no one would ever found out about his secret. And it has stayed hidden from the public eyes for almost 20 years", Count Paradise continued with his mesmerising voice, "until tonight".

Lajos appeared behind the tree with a shovel in his hands. And before anyone could say a word he started to dig the ground.

Lord Ambrose felt his hands shaking a bit.

_The rain had moistened the ground so it was easy to dig. Once, twice, three times and more he dig the earth to make a grave for a being that didn't have a name, that had died just moments after its death. He nervously looked around him. It was night and sky was black. The rain was pouring mercilessly. The clouds didn't allow any light from the stars or the moon to appear. Even if someone did walk by they couldn't possibly see clearly. To see to this small garden in brought daylight was already a task. _

_He looked the hole in the ground. Deep enough, he decided. With shaking hands he took the wooden box and gently put it to the hole. He then took the shovel again and was about to start shovelling again when he heard something. From the box? No, it couldn't be. There was nothing living in that box. It was his imagination. He had been under a lot of stress these last few months and this night and this terrible weather. It was just in his head. There was nothing making sounds in that coffi- in that box!_

_And still, what if…_

_Before he could think about further he started to shovel dirt to cover the hole, like possessed by a demon. He was soaked now completely but it didn't matter. There would be no peace until that cursed box was out of his sight. He threw dirt on it once, twice, three times and maybe hundred times more before it was gone. No one would know now any better. _

Lajos threw the last bit of dirt and than put the shovel away. He stretched his hands to the hole and it seemed he was pulling something from there. No one even dared to breathe. They all watched and their eyes winded when he finally pulled something for them to see. It was a wooden box.

Carlotta screamed and fainted to the ground.

Ambrose looked at the Count. _You…who the hell are you?! _

**To be continued…**


	14. End of the Evening

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait. I've had a tight schedule and I've been generally lazy. Hope you can forgive me. **

**I remind that all feedback is appreciated. It motivates me to continue. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 14 End of the Evening

The other members of the Cholet family were beside Carlotta in a second.

"Cara! Darling, what's wrong? Speak to me!" Cholet said, while kneeling beside his wife.

"I did warn you that my story is not suitable for all. Madame, who had obviously been feeling ill all evening, reacted too strongly. Perhaps Anatole, you could help Miss Cholet and viscount de Chagny to take Madame back inside and help her have some cold drink" said the always calm voice of Count Paradise, coming from behind his mask.

"Yes, I'm more than happy to help" Anatole Garron, the grandson of Duke Alistair Garron, replied.

As he, Charles de Chagny and Maria Cholet helped Carlotta to inside, Cholet watched after them, not sure if it was alright for him to stay. Count put his arm to his shoulder. "Do not worry for Madame, she is tougher than that. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the box. Lajos please open it and show our quests what is inside.

Lord Ambrose d'Arcy felt his inside turn cold when he watched as Lajos with a simple trick with a hairpin opened the lock of the old wooden box. Then he lifted it open and held it in his arms to show everyone that inside the box was…..nothing. It was empty.

_WHAT?!!! No, that's impossible! I put the baby there myself, there should be a corpse! This is…this is not right, _d'Arcy thought, trying very hard to hide his surprise. Then he realised his way out of this one. "An empty box, Count. I don't know how you tried to entertain us with all this but I'm not amused the slightest" he said with an icy voice.

Count chuckled. "Yes, it is an empty box indeed. And before I bought this house this empty box had been buried here for almost 20 years".

"So what? It's not a cry to bury boxes" d'Arcy said.

"But isn't it strange to bury an empty box? I can't see any reason for doing something like that" Count said, leading them to a right direction.

"You mean someone dig out before you did, Count?" It was Countess Christine de Chagny who spoke. For a moment Count was startled for this had been the first time during the whole evening that she spoke to him. He quickly pulled himself together.

"That is correct. You see, a certain man, who had lost his job during the war and become a criminal, had been following the people coming in and out of this house for weeks. During that night when the baby was born he silently watched from the shadows as the father buried the child under this tree. When the father had left the criminal, thinking he would find a hidden treasure, started to dig. It was easy for him to open the lock and you can imagine his surprise when he found the baby. You can also imagine his surprise when the baby cried".

Christine gasped. "It was buried…alive?" she asked.

"Yes, Countess. The criminal, no matter how vile he was, did not have a heart to kill a baby. So he buried the box back below the ground and took the baby to an orphanage. You probably remember that there were lots of those for children who had lost their parents in the war".

"What then happened to the baby?"

Count shrugged his shoulders. "Who can tell? Maybe he died, maybe he is still alive. The parents soon started to continue their lives as if nothing had ever happened".

"How monstrous" Christine whispered.

Count Raoul de Chagny turned to d'Arcy. "Ambrose, it is your duty as the chief prosecutor to find these culprits and send them to gallows" he said.

"Do we know the identities of the parents?" d'Arcy asked from the Count.

"I'm afraid that the man who told me this story did not know that much" Count replied smoothly.

"There you go then", d'Arcy said. "We have no names, no bodies and no actual information. Only some shady stories from some drunk most likely. I can't start a case based on a rumour" he said.

"Why not? You do it all the time, after all. Aren't there countless of cases that you have started based only for an accusation or rumour? And haven't you always found someone to throw to prison or send to the gallows?" Count asked.

Ambrose d'Arcy didn't answer; he just bit his lip furiously.

Suddenly the Count started to tremble and he fell to his knees. Behind his mask came an anguished cry of pain and surprise. His hands were trembling uncontrollably. In a blink of an eye Lajos, the always silent servant, was at his side, helping him up. And someone else was by his side also. Two gentle hands carefully touched his hand.

"Count, are you alright?" asked the concerned voice of Christine de Chagny. For a moment Count managed to raise his head enough to look at her in the eyes. As that happened Christine felt the same strange turmoil of emotions in her as she had felt the first time she saw the Count's eyes.

Count sighed. "I'm fine" he said, though it sounded forced. "Just an old injuries from the war bothering me. But maybe this is a sign to end the evening. It already seems that everyone have lost their appetites after my story. Please, tell to others that I'm sorry but I'm afraid I have to retire now" Count said and then Lajos helped, or practically carried, the masked man inside the house. Almost instantly Nadir appeared to guide the others back to the house.

**Inside the house:**

Carlotta was starting to regain consciousness. Charles, Maria and Anatole had laid her to couch. Maria was pressing a cool rag to her forehead.

"Mother, are you feeling better?"

_No, no I'm not feeling better at all_, was what Carlotta thought. However, she could not show it. "Of course, never better! Why, Maria, you sometimes worry too much of me" she said happily, shakily standing to her feet.

_And she is back to normal, _Maria thought grimly.

Just then Nadir appeared to the landing. "I'm sorry to disturb, but my lord has informed that the evening must be cancelled. He apologizes and says that Madame Cholet is welcome to stay until she feels better" the dark skinned man said.

"Oh, I'm perfectly well. Come on, Maria, let's find your father. The silly man must be worried" Carlotta said, taking the first chance to get out of this house.

"It was a pleasure of meeting you, Madame Cholet", Anatole Garron said and held Carlotta's hand in his, "I hope we shall meet again". He then turned to Maria and took her hand as well. "I hope I shall meet you also, Miss Cholet" he said and planted a kiss to her hand.

Carlotta was feeling much better, seeing the young man's actions. Already all kind of plans for the future started to form in her head. "I'm sure you will see plenty of us in the future, Baron Garron" Carlotta said.

"Please, call me Anatole, Madame" the young man said, smiling.

Maria followed her mother out of the house, feeling uncomfortable. Something about the young man, the way he had looked at her AND her mother made her uneasy.

Charles started to follow them out. He hadn't yet made an opinion of Anatole Garron, but the way he had been constantly so near to Maria had irritated him. Just as Charles was leaving Anatole approached him.

"Do not even pretend of knowing anything about the Count. Let me tell you straight that no one understands him better than I do" he whispered to him and before Charles could even react, he was gone already.

Confused, Charles left the room and saw Harry appearing, followed by Phillip and Meg, whom he had been looking for. Harry winked to Charles with his usual playful manner and it was enough to tell Charles what Meg and Phillip had been doing….wherever they had been.

Phillip was trying to again speak to Lord Ambrose, but hardly had he even opened his mouth when the chief prosecutor took his daughter by arm and dragged her out of the house with an incredible speed.

Gaping Charles turned to his parents as if asking an explanation. His father shook his head dismissingly and his mother had a strange, far away look in her eyes. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts. Feeling that asking would lead to nothing, Charles silently followed them out of the house.

Inside the dark house, the masked Count laid in a bed.

"Seems I don't have as much time left as I was planning" he whispered to the dark room.

**To be continued…**


	15. The Name from the Past

**Okay people listen up. Last time I received just one review. I know I have more readers than that. I can't blame Michelle with her schedules and limited internet time but please, if you find this story interesting and you want me to keep it up a short review is too much to ask for. It hardly will take any of your time but makes me very happy. **

**Okay, sorry about that. This is just frustrated writer talking. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 15 The Name from the Past

Meg d'Arcy was frustrated.

"What on Earth has gotten in to father now? Since we became from that Count's villa he has practically locked himself in his office. I hardly see him at all. Not to mention his become moody…even more than usually" she said.

Meg's grandmother, Madame Giry, listen her granddaughter talking. Even when she hardly ever left her part of the house she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. "Don't you know what has caused this change then, Meg? You were also in the villa, surely you must have seen what caused it" elder woman in the wheelchair said.

Meg blushed and suddenly found her shoes to be very interesting. "Well…I wasn't with father the entire time there" she mumbled.

"Ah, I take it young Monsieur Carriere was there also" Madame said.

"Yes, he tried to talk to father but was dismissed before he had a chance to open his mouth" Meg said.

"Maybe that is best. Your father might have found a reason to have charges against him if he'd say something stupid."

Meg sank to her knees beside the wheelchair. "Oh, grandma what am I to do? Now there is no chance to talk to father and this whole mess with Harry and Phillip is enough to rive me insane" she said.

Madame Giry patted her granddaughters head. "Hush now child. Let me put your mind to rest. There is a way for this engagement of yours and Mr Hunters to be cancelled" she said.

Meg raised her eyes in wonder. "There is?"

"Yes, Meg, there is. I've known a way since the beginning".

Meg gasped. "You have? Then why-"

"Why didn't I say anything before? Because I had hoped that your father would see reason and end this without my interferences. You see, child, in order to end this I would have to reveal the one secret I have never told to anyone. The one thing of my past I'm deeply ashamed of" she told softly.

"Grandmother, you don't have to-"Meg said quietly.

"But I do, dear, I have to. It is time that my secret will see daylight. Maybe I will finally find some piece for myself also then. And for your happiness I am ready to do it. For yours and Monsieur Carriere's happiness. I knew his father you see. When I still worked in the opera house during those early years of the war he was the manager. He was a good man and what I have heard and seen his son has inherited his goodness. So there will be no questioning" Madame said.

Meg stared the older woman for a long time and then hugged her while crying to her shoulder.

_**Meanwhile in d'Arcy's office:**_

Ambrose d'Arcy sat quietly at his desk, tapping his fingers. The past few days had been stressing for him. Ever since that damned evening in the villa he had been having troubles of sleeping and concentrating. Fears he had long since thought to have buried had suddenly come back taking their revenge.

It also hadn't help that Carlotta seemed to have gone hysteric. She had marched in his office yesterday, demanding to know what he was going to do about this situation.

"_Do you think it's true", she had demanded, "that the child survived and was taken to orphanage?" _

"_Well, it would seem so. Otherwise there should have been a body there and I don't see any reason for Count to make it all up" he had answered. _

"_So, what are you going to do about it?"_

"_About what?"_

"_About our son who might be alive! Aren't you going to find him?!"_

_Ambrose was shocked. "What are you talking about woman? Do your math. If the child is alive, and I mean IF, then he is 19 years old already. Do you think he'd just hug us and say no bad feelings? Finding him would be our end" he stated coldly. _

_Carlotta's face had paled and she stormed out of the house. _

Ambrose was pulled out of his thoughts when his door was knocked. "Yes?"

"Your lordship, it is detective Ledoux here" said a voice from other side of the door.

"Come in" d'Arcy said.

A man with silvery grey hair and small black moustache entered the room. He was Ledoux, a private detective whom d'Arcy had hired to find out about Count Paradise after the evening in villa.

"Well, Ledoux, it's been four days. I expect you to have made results" d'Arcy stated.

Ledoux sat opposite him. "Yes, sir, I have indeed found some very interesting things about the Count, though I'm afraid I don't know if it'll do any good for you" he admitted.

"Just tell me what you've found".

"Well, I tried track his trails to the beginning, but it seems that the first time anyone ever heard of the Count was five years ago then. Before that I couldn't find any mentioning of him even existing. So it isn't wonder how in some conspiracy net sites he is referred as "The Phantom". The first mentions of Count Paradise trail back five years ago then, in 2072 when he tripled his fortune in Hong Kong stock markets" Ledoux explained.

"Any idea where that fortune originally became from?" d'Arcy asked.

"No idea. As I said the man is a ghost. However, after that he has been travelling through world and where ever he goes scandals are due to follow. People say different things about him. No one knows for sure his nationality, his age or what he looks like behind the mask. During the past four days I was able to interview two people who've been in contact with the Count.

The first was a Hungarian banker named Sandor Korvin. He said that the count usually uses their bank to handle his money businesses. According to him Count is more of a gambler than an investor who uses his moneys irresponsibly. Through his bank Count seems to have given huge founds for different businesses, and has his own network of spies working for him. Mr Korvin said that Count also owns the majority of his banks stocks which is the only reason Korvin hasn't cancel their mutual businesses already.

The other man I met is an English priest named Father Petrie, to whom Count confesses his sins. Father Petrie has met Count personally but never seen his face. He couldn't tell me much because of his vow to keep their talks in secret. What he was able to tell me is that when Count arrived to Paris he had ordered his men to find information about some woman named Madeline Claudin, who died 21 years ago then in her home. I'm afraid that why Count wanted the information of her is still a mystery. I myself couldn't find much about her either…..my lord, are you alright?"

While Ledoux had been talking d'Arcy's face had started to loose colour and he seemed as if he'd seen a ghost.

"My lord?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly alright!" d'Arcy snapped. "Was there anything else?"

"Well no, except Father Petrie gave me an advice. He said that I should not pry into Count's businesses for the man…according to him, is Satan himself. I know it sounds ridiculous but the way the priest said…I can't explain it to you, sir".

"So you allowed a priest to scare you like a little child, is that it? Well thank you so much for this information, Ledoux. I doubt your services are needed anymore. You shall receive your payment as agreed. Good day" d'Arcy said icily.

Startled Ledoux stood up and muttered "Good day to you, sir" before leaving.

When he was gone Ambrose d'Arcy heard his words still that had startled him.

…_woman named Madeline Claudin…_

D'Arcy closed his eyes and felt his hand shaking. It had been years since he had heard the name, since he had even thought about it. The name from the past. Shakily, more quieter than a whisper d'Arcy whispered the name.

"Claudin….Claudin…."

**To be continued…**

**Please review. **


	16. I Want to Get Out

**Hallo all! Thank you so much for all the reviews! They help me a lot here!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter one. **

Chapter 16 I Want to Get Out

Artists block is the most diabolical curse there is.

At least that's what Maria Cholet decided as she looked at the blank paper in front of her that was beginning something to be drawn there. And she had no idea what to draw. She sighed. For the past year or so she had been publishing some of her works in internet under an alias of Elena Gianelli and had received some good reviews and praising, that encouraged her to continue. Unfortunately today wasn't just the day for it.

Giving up she left her desk. Maybe a fresh air would do some good, she decided. She left her room and walked the stairs down when the door to her mother's room opened and she was greeted by a familiar face.

"Richard? What are you doing here?" Maria asked, seeing the black haired figure of Richard Firmin walking out of her mothers room.

Firmin looked Maria for a moment, as if considering what he should answer, and then simply smiled. "Just giving some legal advices to the lady of the house" he said, a small smirk on his face.

Maria felt sick. She had been aware that her mother preferred young men with some status as her lovers, and had had many over the years, but still….she groaned. "Richard, please don't tell me you slept with my mother" she said.

Firmin just smiled. "Don't think too badly of me, Meg. It just made me sad to see your mother in that condition. She doesn't seem to be well" he said and walked the stairs down.

Maria watched him going. What Firmin had said was true. Ever since they had visited Count's villa her mother had spend less and less time outside and practically locked herself in her room. She had heard how servants only came to take empty vine bottles away and bring new ones instead.

"Good day to you, beautiful lady" said a voice behind her.

Maria jumped slightly and turned around to see the dark eyes of Anatole Garron. "What's the big idea of sneaking behind me and scare the living daylights out of me?" Maria burst.

Anatole smiled. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you could be frightened that easily. But my, what a spirit you have" he said with a low face that made Maria shiver, not in a good way. Suddenly understanding how close they were she felt uncomfortable.

"I-I need to go" she mumbled before managing to practically jump the stairs down and flee.

Anatole watched her running out the doors and smiled. "That's alright. We shall have time to get closer" he muttered to himself.

Maria left the house behind and just walked through the streets. Something about Anatole was giving her creeps. Mother was too drunks to see it and father was blinded by the Count's moneys Anatole kept delivering to him. For the past couple of weeks already this had gone on and frankly it was driving her insane. If only there was a way out of this.

"Maria?"

Maria was snapped out of her thoughts by the familiar voice. She looked around her and saw that absentmindedly she had walked next to a nice cafeteria that had tables outside. Charles de Chagny was sitting in one of them, waving for her. Grateful for the distraction she joined him.

"Hey, Charles. What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be busy wagging your tail for your masked master?" she teased.

Charles frowned. "I'm not that bad, am I? Besides, the Count has been keeping quiet for a while now. But why did you look like someone had burned all your papers?"

"It's my folks. Mother has locked herself in her room and father is all the time with that creepy Garron guy. Weird things been happening ever since that night in Count's villa" she said.

"You also? My mother's been acting strangely too. She seems to be daydreaming more and more these days" Charles said.

This surprised Maria. Countess de Chagny had always seemed like a capable woman who wouldn't be upset by anything. She had also always been very kind to friends of Charles. More than one occasion Maria and Countess had been seen shopping together. "Wasn't your mother an opera singer once?" she asked.

Charles was surprised. It was a topic they didn't speak much. "Yeah, before she married father. It was before your father became the opera manager".

Maria fell in her thoughts. _She had once been young artist also, until she married the Count. After that she became a housewife whose duty is to appear by her husband's side. Is that what's going to happen to me one day? _

"Maria?" Charles asked, concern in her voice.

"I want to get out. Out of my family, out of this city. I don't want to become a wallflower. I could….I could do better, I know I could" Maria said, unable to keep it hidden anymore.

Charles took Maria by the hand. "Of course you could. We all know your talents, even if I'm not exactly an art critic. But don't worry, Maria. Your dreams will come true. I believe in you" he said.

Maria looked at Charles. They had been friends as long as she could remember. He and Harry have always been there for her when she needed them and she had returned the favour. Charles especially, who she had always though as her little brother, had been a rock for her.

"You mean it?" she asked.

"I know it" he said with a rare determination in his eyes.

Maria felt like she was seeing him for the first time in her life clearly. She smiled.

"Thank you".

_**In Cholet's office:**_

"Count has a request for an opera?" Allan Cholet asked, hungrily watching the moneys Anatole Garron was setting on the table.

"That is correct. These moneys are to help you get the production started as soon as possible. In Count's term: at once" Anatole said, smiling pleasantly.

"I understand. We have just stopped our latest showings of Faust and are more than happy to put another production on. What opera is it?" Cholet asked while counting the moneys.

"I'm not familiar enough to remember it, I do have it here somewhere" Anatole said and started going through his papers. "I understand your daughter is having a birthday party soon?"

"Ah yes, my little one is turning 18. How the time flies" Cholet said in a fake nostalgic voice. "We're having the party here in the opera house next week. Would you like an invitation?"

"Thank you, both Count and I would appreciate it. Your daughter is a very intriguing young woman and very beautiful also, if you don't mind me saying" Anatole said with a suggesting voice.

"Are you engaged to be married, Mr Garron?" Cholet asked, a new eagerness waking inside him.

"No, I'm afraid not, though I should be looking for a wife. It helps in society when you have a wife, correct? Ah, here it is!" Anatole exclaimed as he pulled a manuscript from his papers. "Count told me he found it among some old archives. It seems it has never been actually put to production. He thinks it's promising and would like to see it here in Opera Populaire".

"We're more than happy to fulfil that wish for him" Cholet smiled and reached for the manuscript. However, his smile disappeared when he read the title.

**Don Juan Triumphant **

**Composed by Erik Claudin**

A gasp escaped from Cholet as his face turned pale.

"Mr. Cholet? Are you alright?" Anatole asked.

Cholet swallowed. "Perfectly, I was just surprised. You see this opera was never out in production for the composer turned out to be a spy and was arrested and imprisoned" he explained, his throat suddenly very dry.

"You knew him?"

"Not exactly. We just worked here at the same time…..25 years ago then" he said.

"Will that be a problem?"

Cholet looked at the moneys in front of him. "Of course not. We'll start to put it on production at once" he said.

**To be continued…. **


	17. White Roses

**Okay people, am I asking too much? I see that this story interest you since you add it to alert lists but I get less and less reviews. You know, I can keep writing this story if the without the reviews. They are the fuel I need. **

**So please, just a little review, okay? **

**Disclaimers: see chapter one. **

Chapter 17 White Roses

Charles de Chagny yawned lazily as he walked the stairs down from his room. Charles had a guilty pleasure of sleeping as late as possible. Unfortunately for Vicomte de Chagny that wasn't the most appropriate way of living. The very fact that he had been allowed to sleep till 11 am astounded him. Still, he was sleepy. But that was the price to pay when your friends with Harry Hunter. Charles thanked the God he didn't have a hangover. Yet coffee would certainly be appreciated.

Charles walked the stairs down and through the familiar corners of the de Chagny manor. The walls were filled with huge paintings that his parents had chosen. He could easily tell what was chosen by his father and what by his mother. His father always favoured powerful paintings that usually had war as their topic. Waterloo, the American Civil war, Normandy and many others. All of course were done by artists who had never seen these battles. The paintings were dramatised of course, they didn't have any gore and terror in them. Looking at them one would think that there is no terrible things in war. Charles often wondered if his father had chosen all these paintings to forget his time in Mazandera.

The paintings chosen by Countess de Chagny were an exact opposite of battles. In those paintings you could see only harmony and peace: landscapes, portraits of the families in picnic and cities in the night. There was one painting particular that his mother loved. It was an old painting of a nightingale and a white rose. He had once years ago then asked why this painting meant so much to her. His mother had told that the painting was inspired by an old minstrel song of a flower that loved bird against the will of Allah. Countess had explained that long ago someone had sung that old song to her. Charles concluded that it must have been his grandfather who had died long before Charles ever met him but whose name he carried: Charles Daae.

Raoul de Chagny on the other hand, on those rare occasions when Charles had seen him looking at the painting, actually seemed to loath it.

Charles passed the many painting and entered to living room. He found himself the much needed coffee he was looking for and saw his mother on the terrace. She was taking care of her plants there. Charles had pretty much slept through his botany classes so he couldn't make a difference between a cactus and an orchid.

"Morning, mother" Charles said as he stepped to the terrace.

"Morning? Charles, it's nearly noon" Christine said.

"So early?" Charles asked jokingly, earning a disapproving look from his mother. "Where's father?"

"He is in his study. Some of the high-ups from the military came to pay him a visit" Christine told.

After his heroic actions in the Mazandera Raoul de Chagny had earned his title as the General de Chagny and returned to Paris as a celebrated war hero. Very soon after that Raoul's father died and he became Count de Chagny. Although one didn't see Raoul as often in military bases anymore, he was still very active in politics to keep United Europe as secure as possible. So it wasn't uncommon of military officials to visit de Chagny manor.

"Are we having war again?" Charles asked.

"No, and I pray to God we'll never have one again, so please don't joke about things like that, Charles" Christine said, for once her constant good mood gone.

Charles instantly regretted. Sometimes it was easy to forget how much effect mentioning of the war had to some people. "I'm sorry" he said honestly.

Christine shook her head. "You're still so young. A young man like yourself should not talk about wars. Instead you should plan what you're going to buy" she said, her smile reappearing.

"Buy?" Charles asked, wondering what he had forgotten.

"For Maria. She is having her 18 birthday party soon" Christine smiled, almost beaming.

_Oh…that. _"It's more her parents who are arranging it. She told me that she doesn't care about having a celebration" Charles said.

"Maybe so, but turning 18 is a big thing in person's life. You should buy her something nice. She is your friend after all, isn't she?"

"Of course she is" Charles said, rather surprised how his mother could possibly question their friendship.

"Well, of course you need to get something nice to your girlfriend for her birthday then" Christine said, her face beaming.

Charles nearly spit the coffee out of his mouth. "My what?!" he asked.

"Didn't you just say that Maria is your friend?" Christine asked, playing innocent.

"But not my _girlfriend_!" Charles said, feeling very defensive all of a sudden.

"She is a girl. That makes her your girlfriend. Or…did you think I mean something else by that?" his mother asked, her voice somewhere between hinting and sadistic.

Charles wondered if animals trapped in corner felt like he did at that moment. "I...I don't understand what you're talking about, mother" he settled to say.

Christine chuckled. "I'm sure you don't. Charles, I'm your mother. I know you rather well. And trust me when I say that you're still too young to truly understand some things. You'd do best to keep those people you love and care about close to you. You never know when they're not there anymore".

Countess de Chagny said the last bit quieter and with a sad smile on her face.

"Mom?" Charles asked, not understanding how the mood changed so quickly.

Christine shook her head, smiling. "Don't worry about me. Just an old woman talking nonsense" she said.

"Oh c'mon, you're not that old" Charles said.

"Save your flatteries to your girlfriends" Christine said.

"Enough of that. Guess I have to go look for that gift then" Charles said, walking out of the terrace before his mother could get back to embarrassing him.

Christine watched him leaving before turning back to her plants. She had become interested in having taking care of plants during the war. With all the deaths and losses that happened around them, she felt she needed as much life around her as she could.

After taking care of the plants in to terrace she left to the garden of the manor. The garden was also her domain where neither Raoul nor Charles ventured. And it was filled with roses. Red, black and white roses could be seen where ever even the slightest chance for her to plant them was. Especially she favoured the white roses. For no matter how many years it had been, they always brought memories back.

_She was running after him, giggling childishly and trying to keep up with him. They were running like they were just a couple of kids fooling around. She didn't care about the many reactions they woke: the disapproving look from Madame Giry, the amused shake of a head from Monsieur Carriere, the somewhat forced looking smile from Raoul and the drunken hiccup from Buquet. She didn't care as she chased after him through the many corridors of the Opera Populaire. _

_She ran after him, all the way to the roof of the opera house, where he stood watching the black sky and many stars that were shinning. She walked to him and he put his arms around her, her back to his front. _

"_They're beautiful" she said, looking the stars. _

"_None can compare to your eyes" he whispered to her ear. _

_And as they watched the many stars he sang softly the old minstrel song to her ear. Song told the story of a nightingale who fell in love with the rose and every night came to beg for her love. Rose returned his feelings but didn't open her petals for it was against the will of Allah. She loved that song. Every time he sang it to her it brought tears to her eyes. _

_She turned around and watched his face, the boyish grin he had, the short dark hair and the green eyes, with a hint of yellow in them. He kissed her and she was content with her life as it was. _

"_I love you, Christine" he whispered against her lips. _

Christine looked sadly the roses. She was no longer the young singer Christine Daae. She was Countess de Chagny, married to Count de Chagny. She had a husband and a son and she loved both of them dearly. And yet, no matter how much she tried, she could never stop herself from having those memories coming back when she looked at the roses. And again her head was filled with questions that started with 'what if'. What if things had gone differently 25 years ago then?

She heard the officials of military leaving. It was time to greet her husband.

"_I love you too, Erik" she whispered without hesitation. _

**To be continued…**

**Reviews, please. I need them. **


	18. Mme Giry's Secret

**Okay people. For the next few weeks I'll be able to update this fic more often, probably even couple times a week. Therefore I would appreciate those reviews. ****As I've said before a small review won't take a much of your time, but will make me very happy. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter one. **

Chapter 18 Mme Giry's Secret

Harry Hunter stepped out of his car and walked to the main doors of d'Arcy residence. He had no idea why he had been called here with such a short noticing but it worried him. For all he knew Ambrose might be there with a priest, demanding him to marry his daughter at once. For a long time he had tried to find a way to get himself out of the engagement, not anymore just because it would be an inconvenience to him, but because he knew now that Meg and that young Phillip Carriere were very much in love.

With worried steps Harry entered to the house and the servants directed him, to his surprise not to Ambrose's office, but to the part of the house that belonged to Meg's grandmother, Mme Giry. There he not only found the old woman in a wheelchair, but also Ambrose d'Arcy and Meg.

"Ah, Mr. Hunter, welcome. I'm glad you could come with such a short notice" Mme Giry said.

Harry had no time to answer when Ambrose was already speaking. "Alright, Madame. You have us all here. State your business for I have affairs to take care of" he said.

Giry looked at Ambrose with a disapproving look and then spoke calmly. "Ambrose, I am one final time going to ask you too see reason and cancel the engagement between these two young people".

D'Arcy nearly laughed. "That's all this was about? You know my answer already. My daughter and this young man made a fool of themselves and now they must take responsibility of their actions" he stated coldly.

"And that's your final word?" Mme Giry asked.

"Yes it is".

Meg and Harry looked at this exchange with worry and obvious need to be anywhere but there.

"Very well", Mme Giry said calmly, "you leave me with no choice". She turned to Meg and Harry. "I must ask you both to forgive me. Since I learned of your forced engagement I have known a way to get you out of it. However, I was reluctant to use this unless it became absolutely necessary. And now, it seems it is".

"What nonsense is this?" Ambrose asked, but he was already suspecting what was to come.

The elder woman took a deep breath. Then she turned her gaze to Harry. "I have confession to make, especially to you, Mr Hunter. This started before you had even born. Less than 30 years ago then, when the first signs of the World War III started to appear, I was an active member of an underground resistance crew that fought against the ruling class that was obviously desiring for a war and chaos that it could use to become stronger. You could say when you look at the world today that I was on a loosing side.

During those times I was working in an Opera Populaire, which was then managed by Monsieur Carriere, and our group occasionally used the place as our meeting place. It was easy to get in and out through the underground cellars. If Carriere knew of us he never said anything. Then again he was always such a dear man".

"Get to the point!" Ambrose barked.

Mme Giry cleared her throat. "Anyway, our group, going against those who decided of things, were soon lapelled as terrorists. 25 years ago then, when we were on a brink of striking, our crew members started to get arrested more and more, and it became obvious there was a spy. Even innocent suffered, a young composer named Claudin was also arrested, even when he had nothing to do with out group. I was spared, only because of Ambrose here" she said, sending an ungrateful glare to the said man.

Harry was confused beyond belief. "Um, not to sound indifferent towards your past life, Madame, but what exactly does this have to do with the engagement?"

"I was just coming to that. Some years later, when war that we had so tried to prevent from happening, was raging I finally found out who the spy among our group was. There had been a man working in our group named Michael Hartnett, but it turned out he was an under covered police spy named Michael Hunter".

Silence filled the room. "My…my father?" Harry asked in disbelief. Madame Giry nodded. "But I…I don't know much about my father. He died when I was still very little. I just know he worked for the police during the war time and died in a car bombing…" Harry's voice became quieter. He looked the old woman with a questioning look, as he was just realising what the woman was saying.

Mme Giry had a sad expression on her face. "Yes, when I found out who it was that had arrange my group members arrested and executed I became filled with fury. I arranged myself a small bomb and waited an opportunity. Then one day, when I knew his location, I hid it in his car and watched from opposite cafeteria as he got in and car exploded. I killed your father, Mr Hunter. It is my deepest shame" she said.

Harry swallowed, his throat felt too dry suddenly. He himself didn't have many memories of his father and didn't know how he was supposed to miss him. Yet, he did remember his mother's tears and how people pitied him for not having a father.

Harry took a deep breath. "Thank you, Madame. You have brought light to an event that has for a long time kept me in a dark. I feel relieved now that I know why I lost my father". Then he turned to Ambrose. "However, Chief Prosecutor, this confession, made by my fiancées grandmother, demands me to cut all my connections to this family. And if you will not agree to cancel my engagement with your daughter I will press charges against your mother-in-law" he said, as calmly as he could, though his heart was beating madly.

Ambrose d'Arcy was biting his lip to keep from shouting and raging. The old woman had trapped him in a corner by sacrificing her own life. Now he had to make a choice: cancel his daughter's engagement, or have his mother-in-law being accused of murder, after he had kept her in his house for so long. It would be his end as well.

He let out a long breath. "Very well, consider the engagement cancelled" he finally said. Meg hugged her grandmother.

"If that was all, I will take my leave then" Harry said.

"Meg, please escort Mr. Hunter out" Ambrose said. "I'd like to speak with Madame for a moment".

Meg and Harry left the room. Ambrose fumed. "Well, aren't you a piece of work, Madame. You confessed a murder just to defy me" he said.

"I confessed a murder to save my granddaughter from a lifetime of misery" Giry shot back.

"Indeed, and as it seems we are feeling like confessing past sins, then maybe it's time I shall tell you one I've committed. This happened 25 years ago then, during the time when your group started to get arrested. If you recall I had become a head of investigation department, dedicated to find anarchists and terrorists like yourselves. During that time my team was investigating a man name Lefevre. Do you recall the name?" Ambrose asked.

Mme Giry nodded. "Yes, he worked in the Opera Populaire and was part of our group. He was in contact with me often. I recall that police were close to catch him and he killed himself before being caught" she said, her throat dry.

"That's true. However, before he died he had found out that Mr. Hunter was an under covered spy working for the police. Lefevre realised that we were on to him and knew he couldn't get the information to you in time, so before killing himself he wrote a letter to you and gave it to a trustworthy man outside your group, so he could deliver it to you. That man was Erik Claudin".

Mme Giry's eyes winded. "What? Claudin had the information of Hunter? But I found out about Hunter years after Claudin's arrest" she said.

"Yes, that was because someone had seen Lefevre giving the letter to Claudin. That someone wrote and anonymous letter to my department and we arrested Claudin shortly after. Claudin himself was quickly proven innocent to your group activities. He was just a messenger, who hadn't even read what the letter said. Quite innocent" Ambrose said.

"But why…why didn't he come back then? Why was he taken away?" Mme Giry asked.

"Because at the time I was already married to your daughter, Madame. I couldn't afford of people discovering that my mother-in-law was a terrorist, now could I? So I had to make him disappear" he said calmly.

"You bastard! You made an innocent suffer just to protect your own ass!" she screamed. Mme Giry had always disliked her son-in-law, but never before had she felt this intense hate towards him.

"Yes, I did. And after that I kept an eye on you to discover your other friends and had them arrested" he said calmly, enjoying this small victory he could have over the old woman.

"What did you do to him? What did you do to poor Claudin?" she asked through her clenched teeth.

Ambrose said just one thing. "The Devil's Fortress" he said and left the room.

Mme Giry felt like she couldn't breathe. She had heard stories of the Devil's Fortress: a concentration camp in the coast of Arctic Ocean. Many were sent to there during the time of the war. Only few ever returned. Mme Giry buried her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry Erik. I'm sorry everyone. I'm so sorry" she sobbed, remembering the people she had lost.

**To be continued…**

**Remember to review if you want more. **


	19. Ayesha

**100 000 000 000 thank yous to Irena! Thank you for that review!!!!**

**As said, just as many thanks to anyone who reviews, they make me happy. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 19 Ayesha

Charles de Chagny looked around him. The underground apartment of Count Paradise still amazed him to no end. Truthfully everything about the Count amazed him and Charles felt himself very privileged to know the Count. And it had been quite long already since he had last talked to the man. After the evening in Count's villa the masked man had stayed out of sight for the time being. Even today Charles hadn't known if the he would get in, for all he knew Count was in his villa or not even in Paris. But Nadir had opened the door and led him to the underground catacombs.

Charles heard the door opening and looked to the other side of the huge room where the tall, thin figure of the Count was approaching. He was dressed in black, as usually and held a white mask on his face. "Charles, what an unexpected pleasure. I hadn't expected to see you" his voice said from under the mask.

"Truthfully I hadn't plan coming here either, Count, after all I didn't know if you'd be here" the young man confessed.

"I'm sorry, Charles, I've been a poor friend. I should have contacted" Count said.

"No, no there's no need to explain" Charles said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Well, what is that has brought you here?"

"Well, Count, I'm in a need of an advice and I thought, since you know so much, you might help me" he confessed.

"If I can I'm more than glad to. Tell me what the problem is".

Suddenly Charles felt very hesitant. "Uhm…it's…well, Maria, my friend…Maria Cholet I mean…well, she is turning 18 very soon and…this is silly…I have no clue what to give her".

Count was silent for a moment and then low chuckling was heard from under the mask. "This must be rather important if it causes so much trouble for you" he said, obviously very amused.

Charles felt his face heat and the same defensive nature take over as when he had talked with his mother. "Well…she'll only turn 18 once…" he muttered, finding it hard to look at the man.

Count was still amused. "Maria must be quite a close friend if she affects you like that. Anatole has told me that she is a lovely young lady" he said.

Charles felt irritated. _What right does he have to call Maria "lovely"? _

"But I'm afraid that this time I can't help, Charles. You see when it comes to women you can't assume you'd know what to do. It's been scientifically proven that men are idiots in these things. So the only could advice would be from another woman" Count said.

"I already tried my mother but she starts to get these crazy ideas when I do" Charles said.

"Well, let's see if we have luck in here" Count said and motioned Charles to follow him.

Charles followed Count out of the room to the underground lake that had its strange, mystical lightning. As they walked forward he could hear delicate harp music. Very soon Charles saw the player herself: Ayesha, the beautiful young princess. Beside her stood another woman, whose skin was dark and face was hard. When Ayesha noticed them coming she stopped playing and stood also.

"My lord" she greeted the Count and then turned to Charles. "Vicomte".

Charles was about to ask her to call him by his name, but Count was already speaking. "Young Charles here is trying to decide what to get to his… _dear friend_ for her 18'Th birthday" said the masked man.

Ayesha looked between the Count and Charles, as if trying to understand those words, and then she smiled coyly. "What kind of person is she?" Ayesha asked kindly.

"Well…she is artistic and…um, well not really the kind of who follows the rules…" Charles said, afraid that his words would give a totally wrong picture of Maria.

However, Ayesha only smiled and spoke softly. "Then you should get her something which wouldn't be too formal and expected, but also would be personal for her" she said.

Charles wasn't sure if that helped him at all, but it was better than nothing. He nodded his head as his eyes moved to the woman beside Ayesha, who seemed to be ready to attack if he'd take a step closer.

Ayesha noticed this. "Vicomte, this is Sasha, my personal friend and maid. She can not speak but she has been with me ever since Count bought me".

Charles was sure he had misheard her. "Excuse me, did you say…bought you?"

Ayesha became quiet, looking like she'd done something terrible awful and looked to Count for advice. "You can tell him. I trust that Charles will not speak of anything you tell him" Count said and put his hand on Charles's shoulder.

Charles felt oddly honoured by the Count's trust.

Ayesha seemed to relax. "My childhood was like a fairytale. I was a princess in a far away land and I was happy. I remember my mother's soft hands and my father's laugh. I had two brothers. I played with them in our garden a lot. But then the war started and with it ended my childhood. My father didn't have army big enough to defend our country so he asked help from outsiders. It was a mistake. The friend that we had and who was supposed to protect and help us betrayed us to the enemy. As our country fell I lost my father and my brothers. My mother and I were sold as slaves".

Charles felt his throat drying. He hoped for the best as he asked "Because they felt pity on you?"

Ayesha shook her head. "Because of our gender. Pity would have been to kill us".

Charles felt nausea to take over. He looked at the young woman, still girl some would say, in front of him. She wasn't any older than he was and war had ended years ago then. "How old were you?" he asked, wondering why because he really wasn't sure if he'd want to know.

"I was six at the time" she said calmly.

"Six!" Charles breathed.

"Four years later my mother died. After that I waited another four years for my death. Then one day a man came to me, dressed in black and having a mask. I was sure it was my executioner, finally granting me death".

Charles couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had this young woman really went through all that? His mother was right: he knew nothing of the horrors of the world.

"But then the man kneeled in front of me and spoke softly. He said: _Have you given up?_ _Are you ready to die? Or is there still life in there, some will to live to honour the sacrifices your family has made?_ Then he told me that he has bought me and he took me away. It was four years ago then and I have lived for my family ever since. But most of all I have lived for my Lord, the Count, for it was he who bought me. And ever since he has told me I am free and can leave when I choose. But I don't choose to leave. I have everything I want here".

Charles looked at Ayesha for a moment before walking little closer to her. "My lady, you're probably the bravest person I have ever met. I am Charles de Chagny, please call me Charles" he said and offered his hand. Ayesha smiled to him and shook his hand.

"I hope you'll find a good gift to your friend" she said.

Charles smiled. "I promise I will try" he said.

Count put his arm again on Charles's shoulder. "Come, Charles. Let's leave for now. You must tell me how you've been" he said.

As the two men left Ayesha looked after their retreating backs. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked at Sasha, whose eyes were concerned.

"Don't worry, Sasha. I'm perfectly alright" she said.

_You're not fooling me_, said Sasha's eyes.

Ayesha sighed. "Ever since we came to Paris I've been trying to make him give up. To not go through with this plan. I've been trying to save him from the darkness I see in his eyes growing more and more. But how can I? How can I make him forgive when I don't want to forgive them either?" she asked.

Sasha got closer to her and pulled her in a hug.

Ayesha mumbled to her shoulder. "I know I'm just a means to an end to the Count, but I love him still".

**To be continued….**


	20. Memories

**Thanks Irena for the review. Three reviews now, Michelle. ;)**

**I wish my readers merry Christmas for the next chapter won't come until after the Holidays. My gift wish would be nice reviews to read, though I'm pretty sure I only have two readers. Oh, anyway, have a nice Christmas. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 20 Memories

The sun had already set when Count Raoul de Chagny arrived to his home. The meeting with the military officials had taken longer than he had anticipated. And in the end his presence in the meeting hadn't even been necessary. Raoul just happened to be in an important position that it was good to have General de Chagny in the meetings, even if he'd do nothing at all. Raoul couldn't help but allow a smile to appear. It had taken him a long time to get to this position and he was proud to fill the post.

Raoul entered to the house and immediately got rid of his jacket and tie. He moved to the living room to serve himself a drink, when he noticed Christine sitting on a couch. Usually she would greet him but now she didn't even seem to notice him. Raoul moved closer to see if she had fallen asleep.

"Christine?"

Startled, she turned around to see her husband. "Raoul! You surprised me" she said.

"I could tell", he chuckled, "what were you thinking? You seemed to be a million miles away".

"Oh, nothing much" Christine said, smiling, though it seemed forced. "How was your day, dear?" she asked.

Raoul didn't smile. "Christine, we've been married for 22 years already. I know when something is bothering you. Surely you can tell me" he said.

Christine looked uncomfortable but spoke nevertheless. "I heard that the Opera Populaire is going to put a new opera in production" she said.

Raoul raised an eyebrow, signifying he didn't get the point. Sure, he knew Christine still sometimes missed the days she used to sing in an opera but never had he seen her so disturbed.

"The opera is called **Don Juan Triumphant**" Christine said, letting out a shaking breath.

Raoul pondered. "Don Juan? The name does ring a bell, but I can't remember…"

Christine interrupted her husband's musings. "Raoul, it's _his_ opera!"

Raoul looked confused and was about to ask for more help, when suddenly he realised that there was only one person whom Christine would speak of like that. Raoul's eyes winded and he felt cold sweat on his forehead, the same that came every time he was reminded of those days.

"Are you…are you sure?" Raoul asked.

Christine sighed. "Of course I am. It was all he ever talked about whenever he was working on it. They never played it because….of what had happened to him. Why now, Raoul? After all these years?"

Raoul couldn't answer because he could hardly believe it himself. _Has Cholet taken the leave of his senses? Why would he play that opera? Doesn't he simply care? Has he managed to become so indifferent of what he did...of what we did?_

Not wanting to think to deep in to it, Raoul was eager to change the topic. However, he knew that Christine would have to be persuaded. "Christine, what does it really matter? It's been 25 years, no body cares anymore what happened to him and why. If they want to play his opera then why should we be upset of it? What harm could it do?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't betray his anxiety.

Christine shook her head. "No harm. It's just…well, I was just surprised to hear of it. That's all. I wasn't prepared to hear of it…of him" she said.

The way she said _him_ woke something inside Raoul. An old jealousy that he thought had left him for good seemed to come back after years of silence. "Why would you be surprised to hear of him? Why does hearing of him affect you so much? After he's been dead over 20 years you should have accepted it already" he said, some harshness dripping in his voice.

Christine looked at her husband, shock written all over her face. "He was mine…"

"Was what? You friend? Your partner? Your former lover? Your only love? Is that it, Christine? Are you still in love with him?" Raoul demanded, unable to stop his temper taking control and anger slipping into his voice.

Christine was too stunned to answer which angered Raoul further. He took hold of her on her arms and pushed her against the couch. "Answer me! Are you still in love with him?! Why did you marry me then?!!" he shouted.

"I…I heard…he had died…" she answered, her voice trembling. Her words silenced them both.

Raoul let go of her and took a step backwards. "Is that…the only reason…" he asked with a quiet voiced.

"Raoul…I can't…" Christine said before running from the room, tears in her eyes.

Raoul stood motionless in the room before falling to the couch. He buried his face in his hands as memories carried him back to that day 25 years ago.

_After a success Opera Populaire had had with __**Romeo and Juliet**__ the manager Gerard Carriere had thrown a party in Café dell Opera. Raoul, who had still be vicomte back then, had also attended for his family, that had always supported that arts, had made him one of the patrons of the opera. However, unlike everyone else, he was not having fun. It was painful enough to have to look the two of them in stage, playing the roles of Romeo and Juliet, but now he had to endure seeing them dancing also. He had to endure seeing him holding her hands, seeing him having her so close and, worse of all, seeing him receiving the smile he would be ready to kill for. _

_Damn that Erik Claudin. _

"_Wouldn't the young vicomte join us for a drink?"_

_Raoul turned around to see the source of voice coming from a table near the end of room. It was Alan Cholet, the accountant of the Opera Populaire, who was sitting with Joseph Buquet, the former stagehand who had been fired earlier that very same day. _

"_You don't look that happy, vicomte" Buquet said, his voice betraying of how drunk he already was. _

"_But why ever not? After all this is such a happy party. Just look at our leading stars dancing there, so young and so in love" Cholet said. "Don't they look happy to you, Joseph? Not a worry in the world…unless…" his voice trailed off._

"_Unless what?" Joseph asked. _

"_Well, you probably remember that poor old Lefevre killed himself earlier this week. Turned out he was in an activist group and wanted by the police. Before he died I saw him giving a letter to Claudin. Use your imagination of what that letter could possibly be. It may hold information of those activists. I wonder what might happen to Claudin if the police would find out about it" he said. _

_Raoul wasn't looking at him. He acted totally indifferent towards them. Yet he had heard every word and, as he watched the young couple dancing, he could feel his anger and jealousy waking. _What does Christine see in him? He can't provide her as much as I? She won't be happy with him, _he thought. _

"_But of course none of us would inform the police, now would we?" Joseph asked. _

"_Of course not, we're buddies of Claudin" Cholet said. _

_Raoul sat little more, watching how they danced the song through. When it finally ended both turned to look at him. A moment of surprise appeared in their faces, caused by his choice of company, but then they just smiled and waved friendly. Friendly, as if they didn't how much he suffered!_

_Raoul waved to a waitress. "Could I have a pen, paper and envelope?" he asked. _

_Unknown to him Cholet and Buquet, both smiling happily, raised their glasses. "Cheers". _

Erik Claudin had been arrested the following day and that was the last they had heard of him. The head of the investigation, Ambrose d'Arcy, told them that Claudin was an enemy of the state and was sentenced for life in prison. After a couple of years Raoul understood that Christine was not about to forget him, so he used his influence to have a formal document stating that Claudin had died in prison.

"It was for the best. She would have never opened her eyes and see what was best for her unless…"

Raoul sighed as he sat on the couch, finishing his drink. He felt a nagging voice in his head saying that he was lying to himself. That his marriage, his career, his popularity were all fake and he deserved none of it.

Raoul silenced the voice. "Too late to regret any of it now. Why should I still compete with a dead man?"

**To be continued…**

**Reviews, anyone? **


	21. Birthday Surprise

**Yay, I'm finally updating this fic! Huray! **

**As always thanks to Irena for wonderful review and to Michelle for catching up. That really made me happy. I'm so glad to have you two as my readers. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 21 Birthday Surprise

As said the 18'Th birthday of Maria Cholet did indeed arrive and as it is custom with the crème of Paris, a huge birthday party was arranged for her honour in Opera Populaire. Although some would say it is incredible for Alan Cholet to arrange a birthday party in such a place, Maria would only say that her father wants to show off.

Maria huffed from behind a curtain where she was watching people entering. If she didn't know better she could have sworn it was her father's birthday, with the way he was smiling broadly and shaking hands with all those who entered. The nobility of Paris, they call themselves. _As if they differ from other people, _Maria thought. _I was born in a privilege life but I don't find myself any different from those who clean my mother's clothes._

Speaking of her mother, Maria noticed how much make-up she had. Carlotta was putting on a show to make people think she was her bright old self again. Maria knew better though, her mother had not been herself lately. Ever since her fainting scene in Count Paradise's villa she had stayed in her room, wallowing in misery and drinking. Only people she allowed close to her were her servants and lovers. Alan Cholet probably knew this but didn't care. If it either didn't make money or cost him it had no interest to him.

The de Chagny family entered the lobby. Count Raoul had his uniform, Countess Christine was dressed in a beautiful purple dress and their son, Vicomte Charles had a plain evening suit. In which, Maria noticed to her amusement, he looked uncomfortable.

"Ah, Count de Chagny. Pleasure to have you here" Cholet said as he shook hands with Raoul.

"Well, Cholet, you know me. I'm not fort the party but Countess here would never forgive me if I didn't attend" Raoul said, earning a playful scold from his wife. The two men laughed.

Charles exchanged pleasantries but left as soon as possible. He looked around himself to see any familiar faces. Firmin was talking to an open window, so Charles concluded Andre must be on the other side smoking. Winslow Leach was talking with Meg d'Arcy about something to do with latest technology no doubt. Maria on the other was no where to be found. _Probably hiding from the crowd, so typical of her, _Charles thought.

He patted his pocket and felt the gift he had. It weighted like sin and just thinking the moment he would give it to her made his heart pound. He wasn't sure if he had done the right choice with the gift. It was either a stroke of genius from his part or the stupidest thing he had done, overshadowing the fact that he had end up kidnapped last New Year.

"Ah, Count de Chagny, monsieur Cholet, pleasure to see you both" said a rich deep voice behind Charles. He turned around to see that Count Paradise had entered also. He was wearing a black tuxedo and a white mask, his long black hair pulled back neatly. Behind him stood Anatole Garron, a self satisfied smirk on his face and huge bunch of roses in his hands.

_Those roses are better to be meant for Madame Cholet…_Charles thought as his hands closed in fists.

"Hallo Charles! Great to see you here!" Charles nearly yelled liked a girl when the hand of Harry Hunter just suddenly dropped to his shoulder. He hadn't even heard Harry approaching him.

"Harry, for God's sake, do not sneak behind people's back like that" Charles growled.

"I didn't sneak. You were just living in a world of your own, glaring that Garron guy over there" Harry said to his defence. Both turned back to the door where Anatole was still standing behind Count who was talking with Cholet.

"Anatole has informed me that your production of Don Juan is coming nicely" Count stated with a pleasant voice.

"Yes, but truthfully we have been forced to spend great deal of efforts and budget for it. It's a very ambitious opera after all" Cholet said, laughing uneasily.

"Oh, do not worry. You will be getting everything you deserve, monsieur Cholet. That I promise" Count said. "But instead of having opening night next month I'd like it to be held two weeks from now".

The colour disappeared from Cholet's face as he gape the Count like he had grown a second head. However, before opera manager had time to say anything another voice stopped in. "It was you who ordered **Don Juan Triumphant**?" asked Countess de Chagny.

Count Paradise looked at the woman for a moment before answering simply "Yes, Madame".

A strange smile appeared in Christine's face. "Why doesn't it surprise me?" she said and walked to the crowd.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"No idea" said confused Charles. He shook himself out of it. "I heard your engagement with Meg was finally cancelled then" he said, changing the subject.

"Yes, rather suddenly, under the circumstances I promised not to talk about. Yet, that predator Meg has for a father just refuses to acknowledge loss. Phillip told that he would be wanted for kidnapping if he would take Meg out of the house. And he himself is not permitted to enter" Harry told.

"I didn't think d'Arcy would go that far" Charles said.

"Old farts are weird. But Phillip and I are already planning have to deal with it. Since I was partly to blame of that engagement fiasco I've promised to help them" Harry said.

Charles rose his eyebrows and was about to ask further explanations when applaud was heard to the crowd. Charles turned around to see that Maria had finally come out of her hiding place. And the sight of her in a black dress made his jaw drop to the floor. Harry noticed Charles' reaction and wondered it for a moment, before comprehension kicked in and he wondered should he tease or encourage his friend. He settled for amused chuckling.

The crowd begun to sing 'Happy Birthday' as Maria greeted most of them. Charles wondered should he give his present for her personally or put it to the huge stack of presents that would be taken to her room. _Then again she just might not even bother herself with them, _Charles thought.

Maria walked to them and Harry immediately pulled her in an enormous bear hug. "You're 18 now, Maria! I'm so happy for you, you're finally legal. Shall we find bedroom now or later?" he teased.

"You're incurable" Maria scolded, knowing Harry well enough to deal with his sense of humour.

She turned to Charles who felt every muscle of his body turning to jelly. "C-Congratulations, Maria…y-you look really p-pretty…" he stammered while cursing himself to the lowest pits of hell.

Maria seemed to be surprised by Charles' reaction and a slight blush spread to her cheeks. "Thank you" she said. Harry had to bit his lip to not burst laughing.

Charles put his hand to his pocket and started to pull the little wrapped gift out. "I…I have here…"

"Ah, Miss Cholet! How lovely you look. Please accept these modest roses" said Anatole Garron who seemed to have materialised out of thin air handing his roses to Maria. Maria, too startled by his sudden presence, could only nod and accept the flowers.

"If it is not too bold for me to ask", Anatole spoke, his voice hinting something that wasn't quite right, "can I have the first dance with our birth day….heroine?"

Maria could suddenly feel almost every eye on her and it made the declining all the more difficult for her. Her gaze met her father's who was all but demanding her to dance with Garron. Signing, she knew that declining would only cause more trouble to her than one little dance.

"For the first dance, alright" she finally muttered, satisfying the audience around her. She just hoped her voice had enough ice to make it clear to Garron this would also be their last dance.

Garron's smirk didn't disappear, but stayed on his face even when they started dancing. Charles found himself thinking of different ways of wiping the smirk of his face. All of them had something to do with Garron suffering an internal bleeding or broken ribs.

A hand landed on Charles' shoulder, more gently than Harry's. "Well, Charles, I must admit that I didn't expect you to look so grim on your friend's birthday" Count Paradise said, his white mask looking straight to Charles.

"Ah, Count…it's nothing really…" Charles said, laughing uneasily.

"If you say so". Count looked at the dancing couple. "Say, don't they make a beautiful pair? You must be very happy for your friend, Mademoiselle Cholet. It seems she will be celebrating very soon again after all".

"What are you talking about, Count?"

"Their engagement of course".

Charles gaped at the masked Count. _E-Engagement?! What engagement? No, Count must be mistaken, he couldn't have meant an engagement between Maria and that…that person! _But Count's mask didn't betray his true feelings and Charles was left with a sudden need to be anywhere but here. Without realising it he dropped his gift to the stack of other gifts and walked away from the crowd.

**To be continued…**

**Reviews, please? **


	22. Jerome

**Hallo, my dear readers. **

**Michelle: I hope you received my message. I know how busy your schedule is and it pains me we can't talk as often as before.**

**Irena: hope this chapter will intrigue you even more. **

**.heart.angel.93: thank you for the review! I'm so glad you like my story and I hope that I'll hear from you again. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 22 Jerome

"FAAAAAAAAAAAATHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The footsteps echoed in the hall, the office doors burst wide open and Maria Cholet entered, out of breath and her face red.

Alan Cholet raised his head from the papers he had been examining. "Maria? What on Earth-"

Ignoring her father's startled face Maria marched right to his table and slammed her hands down to it so hard that some of the papers actually switched places. "It was you, wasn't it?! It was you!!! Just admit it!!!!" she screamed, her face turning redder.

Cholet had an ignorant face. "I don't know what you're talking about" he said calmly.

"Don't play stupid! You know perfectly well!! Ever since the birthday party yesterday there has been a rumour going on that I and Anatole Garron are engaged to be married!! It was you who started spreading that rumour, wasn't it?!!" she roared.

Cholet didn't even flinch. "Screaming won't get you anywhere, you know. I've been married to your mother too long already" he said.

Maria clenched her fists. "Just. Answer. The. Question" she hissed through her teeth.

Cholet sighed. "Maria, Maria, Maria… Haven't you learned anything? I don't start rumours; that is for people like your mother. But if it suits me I don't try to stop them either. And I really don't see any reason to say this is a lie. After all, Anatole is a fine young man and the heir of title and property of Duke Alistair Garron. As any father I want what is best for my little girl-"

"CUT THE CRAP! As if you'd ever do anything for me unless it would benefit you, and I know what it is you really love. Money! It's always been money you love more than your family, opera or anything. And now you want even more money by marrying me to Garron! No matter how I feel, if it has money for you" Maria shouted.

Cholet cleared his throat. "I don' understand what you're complaining. There are many young girls who would give their right hand for this engagement. And as far as I know you don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

Maria was offended, but couldn't say anything. Truth was she didn't have a boyfriend, but she as hell was not going to admit it. So she stayed quiet.

Cholet continued. "Beside your position is very good. Anatole has told me many times how interested he is of you".

Maria huffed sceptically.

"Well, it's true isn't it?" Cholet said.

"Of course it is" said an amused voice behind Maria.

Maria felt her heart stop for a moment and all colour disappearing from her face. She turned around and saw Anatole Garron sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, with an extremely amused grin on his face.

_How long has he been here? I came in so fast that I hardly even looked around myself. Why didn't he make himself known? Does he get some satisfaction out of this? _

"And what do you have to say of this?" Maria demanded, feeling too mad to be embarrassed.

Anatole chuckled. "I hope you can forgive me, Miss Cholet… no, perhaps I should start to call you Maria. You can call me Anatole if you wish. And it is as your father says, he didn't start the rumour. I did".

Maria's eyes winded. "You… what?"

"To make things easier for me. I believe under the demand of society people are willing to do a lots of things. And there's no need for us to know each others well now. We have all the time for it later…" he said while standing up and walking toward Maria, then leaning close and whispering her ear "on our wedding night".

Maria's face blushed and slapped her hand hard against Anatole's face. Garron took a step back but the satisfied grin stayed. Feeling like she was threatened by a wild animal, Maria left the office in a hurry.

Anatole kept looking for retrieving back. _I'm going to enjoy taming you, _he thought. Then he turned to Alan Cholet. "Well, monsieur Cholet, I think we're through talking business this day" he said.

"Yes, but I sill think Count's request for the opening night in two weeks is unreasonable. The amount of work actors and dancers and musicians will have to do for it to happen is monstrous" Cholet said.

"Count Paradise has made his mind and I wouldn't go against it, if I was you. Pay all the necessary extra that is needed from your own account" Anatole said.

"M-my account?!" Cholet was shocked.

"Do not worry, monsieur Cholet. The sooner Count sees his opera the sooner he will reward you beyond your imagination. You have seen how carelessly he spends his moneys. And the sooner the opera is over the sooner we can move to other affairs…like weddings" Anatole said, satisfied smirk on his face.

"Ah yes, of course" Cholet said weakly. _What an irony that it's HIS opera that will give me such troubles, _he thought.

Anatole left the office and walked the grand stairs down, while humming to himself. _Little Cholet will be a nice toy to play with, and very soon this life of luxury and privilege will be mine, as it should be. By following Count I will have it all; position, riches… and revenge. _

With those happy thoughts Anatole left the opera house and took his car. Just as he closed the door and started the engine he noticed something out of ordinary. There was someone sitting in his back seat.

"It wouldn't do well for you to make a scene now, Jerome" the voice behind him said.

Anatole's eyes winded. _I know that voice! _"Buquet?"

A laughing was heard as the figure leaned closer, revealing a face of an older man with reddish cheekbones and nose, and already greying hair. "Yes, Jerome, your old friend Joe Buquet. I'm so glad you still remember me. Usually people who get in high places tend to forget their previous friends" Buquet said.

Anatole swallowed. "How long have you been out of prison?" he asked, his hands tied on his steering wheel.

"Oh, sometime already. You know, Jerome, it wasn't nice at all for you to leave me taking all the blame. I thought we were partners. Everything was 50:50, right? But then what do I find after a night of celebration of our successful job done? You and the moneys gone and cops at my door. I didn't like that at all, Jerome" Buquet quietly chuckled from the backseat.

"What do you want?"

"I want what you took from me, Jerome. I want all those riches I could have had and compensation for the time I spend behind bars. Let's say 20 million euros in cash" he said.

"20 mil-! Are you insane? Do you think I just walk around with that kind of money in my back pocket?" Anatole gasped.

"I'm not saying to give them now. Within a month will be good. And don't you start feeding me any bullshit that you don't have that kind of sums. Even if you already spend everything we gathered together I see that you are living a wealthy life. I'll give you one month to gather the money, just for the sake of the good old times. If I won't have my money I'll tell all those new friends you have that you're not really the grandson of any Duke or Earl or whatever it is you're pretending to be" Buquet said.

"You think they'd take your words against mine? You can't prove a thing" Anatole said confidently.

"Who needs proofs? If I accuse the police will investigate. If police investigates it's only a matter of time before the truth will come out. And even if it'll not it still won't look good if you're under suspicion, now does it, Jerome?"

Chuckling Buquet opened the door and stood out. "One month, now more or less" he said and walked away.

Anatole gritted his teeth. _Of all the times he could have found me! This is bad, I've come this close to my goals, I can't loose them now. Not for the likes of him. Should I tell the Count… no, even I don't trust Count that much, he might even have something to do with Buquet's sudden appearing. No, I have to follow an old instruction: If you want something to be done, do it yourself. _

**To be continued…**


	23. Article

**A new chappy, how nice. **

**Irena: THANK YOU SOOOOOOO MUCH! Ah, that's a writer's dream of a review. You make me so happy.**

**.heart.angel.93: So glad you liked the chapter also. I will reveal everything in time, including who Jerome exactly is. **

**Michelle, I hope you're okay, since it's been so long we've last talked. May this chapter find you happy and healthy.**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 23 Article

Gilles Andre closed the door to his apartment behind him and instantly fell to the couch. It wasn't the easiest job to be the top reporter of Parisian Network, especially since he arranged live reports for television and articles in paper. Andre sighed.

_Thank God I don't also do internet articles. There would be no end to this workload then. _

Hardly had the reporter managed to light his smoke, when his cell phone rang. Tiredly he answered it.

"Hallo?"

"Is this Gilles Andre, the news reporter?" asked a voice that had been masked.

Andre was in no mood for pranks. "Who is this?"

"Please, open your email. By now you should have received my message that should interest you" the voice said.

"Look, if Richard Firmin put you into this then…" Andre started while he opened his email from his laptop that was open 24/7, but stopped as his eyes scanned quickly the text.

"What the…look, if this is a joke I'm not buying it" Andre said.

"You would actually let something like this go loose? This will be the news of the century. I was thinking the star reporter might want it" voice said.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll just give it to someone else, of course".

Andre put his smoke away and bit his lip, while carefully reading the message again. He clicked open the many files that had been send with it.

"Is this all genuine? Because I will not report any frauds. Something like this can jeopardise my entire career and my personal friendship with Vicomte de Chagny" Andre said.

"Isn't reporters' top priority to tell the truth to the people? Shouldn't having news like this make you excited and thrilled?" voice said.

Andre felt trapped. It was true, after spending years of his life reporting, something like this felt like finding the jackpot.

"Who are you?" Andre finally asked.

"You will hear from me after you've made this public knowledge. Do not worry, I shall take responsibility of this when time comes, Monsieur Journalist" the voice said and then hung up.

Andre one more time read again all the information he had received and then light a new smoke.

"I need to be careful with how I'll handle this. The first article should not have all the facts yet" he muttered to himself before he dialled a number to his phone. "I have a new main article for tomorrow, something far more scandalous than what the government officials do in bathrooms" he said.

**The next day:**

Charles de Chagny had been somewhat edgy and moody lately. It had started on the day of Maria's birthday party. The what-ever way the Count had told him about Maria's and Anatole Garron's engagement had shocked him and, like a little boy, he had left the party.

It was only later that Charles realised how stupid that had been. He should have stayed there and then confront Maria calmly and ask about the news. Except he probably wouldn't have been calm. However, now that Charles had tried to get in contact with Maria something always came in the way. Either no-one would answer the phone or they would apologize that the time was inconvenient or something like that. All Charles really wanted to do was to talk with Maria, to find out her opinion in this matter. The rumours of their engagement were spoken everywhere but until something was confirmed it was to be taken just as a rumour.

But today, as Charles walked angrily to his home, he had reached his limit. It was still very early, highly unusual for him to be already out, so he had though he might have chance to talk with Maria, since she couldn't possibly be busy yet. But on the door he had been turned away. _Turned away! They know who I am, they know I am a friend of Maria and that if I wish to speak with her they would inform her. But they wouldn't even tell her. Just said that I should go away. This starts seem like they are avoiding me…_

_Or could it be she is avoiding me? If so then why? Surely she can't be pissed that I left her birthday party so early? And if she is then this is too much. But why to avoid me? Usually she would just yell at my face if she'd pissed with me…Unless she too has figured out something, like my mother and Count. She seemed rather startled when I spoke to her last time. Oh God, did she figured it out and now feels too awkward and doesn't want to see me again? _

Panicking Charles took his cell phone and dialled Maria's number, but again no one answered. _Shit!_

Tormented by sudden doubts, Charles walked to his home. He planned to rest a little, hoping that these thoughts would leave him, for the idea that Maria might not want to see him again was…unthinkable. He would definitely try to get in contact with her this evening again. But hardly had Charles even entered when he heard his father's enraged voice.

"How the hell can this be?! Who does that man think he is?!!"

Grateful for the distraction that would keep his mind from wondering back to Miss Cholet, Charles approached the living room, where he saw his father and mother reading the newspaper.

"Is something wrong?" Charles asked.

Raoul raised his head to look at his son. "I have been scorned!" he said.

Christine tried to smooth things. "Now, now, Raoul. It isn't as bad as that. Your name is not mentioned there…"

"It might as well be. Look at this: _an officer named Raoul_. If it's not meant to scorn me then the writer should have been more careful. Of course people would first think it means me" Count de Chagny huffed.

"What exactly is going on?" Charles tried again.

"Read for yourself" Raoul said and tossed the paper for Charles. Charles eyes scanned the headlines before finding the main article.

_**The Truth of Mazandera**_

Charles read the article, trying to understand what was so alarming about it, before he read the following part:

_**In the light of the new evidence that our newspaper has received, we must assume that the events of battle of Mazandera, which greatly affected the result of the last war, did not go as is popularly believed. The new evidence tell us that a young French officer, named Raoul , enjoyed the trust of the Sultan of Mazandera and then betrayed him to the Russians, causing the entire family to be slaughtered. **_

Charles now understood the cause of alarm. His father had leaded the battle in Mazandera and had been greatly rewarded and praised about it after the war was over. His military record, his honour and the respect he enjoyed all were because of Mazandera. This article was a direct attack against his honour and achievements, and also the good name of de Chagny.

Especially the last part made Charles see red. It was also slapped to his and his mother's faces. Something like this was beyond forgiving, especially since the so-called evidences were not presented in the article at all.

"This is some kind of cowardly plot, right father" Charles said.

"Of course. People who are envious of my statue are making lies to break me" Raoul said.

"We should sue the newspaper for slander" Charles said, feeling his temper rising, the frustration he had felt earlier becoming out and being direct towards the newspaper.

"Calm down, both of you", Christine said, "The paper didn't say Raoul de Chagny and we won't sue anyone until the full name is declared. Besides, Charles, isn't the writer of this article a friend of yours?"

Charles suddenly felt his face go pale as he directed his eyes back to the paper.

_**Article by Gilles Andre**_

He stared the simple words in disbelief for a moment before his anger returned ten times more powerful and he left the house. He needed to see Andre quickly and have few words with him.

**To be continued… **


	24. Challenge

**Hallo!**

**.heart.angel.93: So glad you find this story interesting and thank you for the review. **

**Irena: Thank you so much! You really are a sweetie to send that kind of reviews. Although this part little confused me: **id**ea with a newspaper article surpasses the original. What original? Oh well, thank you anyway!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 24 Challenge

If one would have told Harry Hunter that he would go to the shooting ranches today, he would have said "You don't know me at all". Harry had never much cared for guns and shooting. However, today he did indeed found himself driving to the shooting ranches. Because of Charles. _Who else? What is that idiot doing in the ranches anyway? He's always been a terrible shooter. Yet suddenly I get a phone-call from his mother, practically begging me to go there. What the hell is wrong?_

Harry felt a little a bit of regret not knowing what was wrong with Charles. Harry's attention had lately been only on how he could help Phillip and Meg that even his best friend was left in background. The plans of how to help Phillip and Meg were now finished, they were just waiting the right moment, so he felt he could make it up to Charles by helping him now. He just wished it wasn't too serious.

Charles was alone in shooting ranch so spotting him was easy. He held his gun and fired it many times, not hearing Harry approaching him until he was next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Charles asked, not bothering to look at him.

"Your mother called me. She seemed to be very worried of you. Is something wrong?"

Charles snorted. "Oh nothing. Everything is just fine. Honestly, don't you read newspapers?"

"About that article yesterday of Mazandera? Yeah, I read it. I felt it was aimed against your father, but that doesn't explain why you're here" Harry said.

"So you didn't read this days newspaper then?" Charles said, still not looking him.

"What? No, I haven't. Charles, for God's sake will you stop shooting and look at me?!" Harry snapped.

Finally Charles turned to look at him. Harry was startled by the despair he saw in Charles' eyes.

"Charles, please tell me what's happened" Harry begged.

Charles was quiet for a while before sighing. "Yesterday, after I read the article, I went to see Andre, to demand an explanation".

_Charles ran the steps up to Andre's apartment quickly and knocked the door. He knew Andre would be there. "Andre, open up!" he shouted. _

_He didn't have to wait for long. The door opened and Andre moved aside to let him in. When Charles entered he was surprised to find Richard Firmin there also. _

"_Charles, I understand you must be crossed with me now, but this really isn't the best time…" Andre started. _

"_That's an understatement, Gilles. You have any idea what you've done?" Charles demanded. _

"_My job, Charles. Nothing else" Andre said. _

"_You're job that stains my father's reputation!" Charles shouted. _

"_Charles, please calm down. There's something you need to know" Firmin said and motioned Charles to sit down. _

_Charles sat down. "Well, what does this have to do with you, Richard?"_

_Andre started speaking. "Charles, yesterday someone send me an eye witness testimonies from the time of battle of Mazandera, that told a different kind of stories that what is publicly known. According to them a French officer who was in Sultan's favour betrayed them to the Russians and earned a nice sum of money in the process. This officer was named as Raoul de Chagny". _

"_And who exactly are these eye witnesses?" Charles asked. _

"_Most of them are dead now, but the one who called me claimed that there was still one living and more than willing to testify against your father. This person would reveal himself in your father's hearing". _

_Charles gritted his teeth. "You-"_

_Andre hurriedly interrupted. "I am not so naïve as to trust anonymous letters like that, Charles. That's why we didn't publish your father's full name. I called Firmin and asked him to go through archives, to see if there was anything to back up this story. If not then I would personally write an apology in tomorrow's article and take full responsibility". _

_Charles turned to Firmin. "And what did you find?"_

"_Nothing, and that's the suspicious part. Most of the records concerning about Battle of Mazandera were either missing or deleted. It seemed as if no one really knew what happened in there, except your father and his report is very vague also. And when I looked more closer it seemed that some of the higher officers of that time disagreed with your father in many things, but ultimately kept their mouths shut" Firmin told. _

"_Because they realised they were wrong" Charles said. _

"_Or they were bribed" Andre said. _

"_WHAT?!"_

_Firmin tried to sooth things. "Charles, please calm yourself. I admit that this is all very vague and not detailed enough but there is definitely something suspicious about this. The higher-ups will want to avoid scandal so this thing will be taken care of very quickly. Your father will probably have a notice of the date when he will be heard tomorrow" Firmin said. _

_Charles looked both of them in disbelief. _

_Andre sighed and lighted a cigaret. "I am sorry, Charles, I truly am. I didn't want to do something that would mix you and your mother in it. But this is my job, my duty and I have to do it. In tomorrow's article it won't say just 'an officer named Raoul', but it will say 'Raoul de Chagny'"._

_Charles was quiet for a long time, his hands were balled in fists and his shoulders were slightly trembling. Then, as calmly as he could, he rose and spoke. _

"_Andre, if you do that you can consider my glove thrown". _

"You what??!" Harry shouted in shock.

"I told him that should he write an article that goes against my father then I would challenge him to a duel. Even knowing this he did write my father's name in today's article" Charles said tiredly.

Harry gaped at him. "B-But what if what Andre writes is true?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter! Even if…God forbid…even if something in those ridiculous accusations would be true it doesn't matter. This doesn't only go against my father. It also goes against me, my mother and anyone carrying the name of de Chagny! His duty is to report and my duty is to defend my family name" Charles burst.

Harry was stunned. He could have never predicted that things would go this way. "Is that why you're here shooting? To practise?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. As an offended party it was my choice of weapon. I'm rather good with swords but Andre can barely even lift one, it would have been unfair towards him. So I chose guns. Andre I've heard is good with them".

Harry looked at the target. There were many bullet holes around it, some very near it, but not one really hitting it. "When is the duel?"

"Next Tuesday morning. My father's hearing is on Monday. I want to be there to see who exactly is accusing him. You'll be my second, won't you?" Charles asked.

Harry sighed. "Of course, even when I don't agree with you. I guess it's going to be a long weekend for us if we're going to make you a shooter at all".

"You'll help me then?"

"Of course" Harry sighed again. "At least this gives us an excuse to not see that new opera" he then added jokingly.

"What?" Charles asked in confusion.

"That Don Juan or whatever. Isn't it opening today?"

"Ah, yes, I think so" Charles said absently.

Harry looked at him closely, before asking "Does Maria know about this duel?"

Charles was quiet for a moment. "She doesn't need to know" he said.

_But I should talk to her before Tuesday, in case the worse will happen. _

**To be continued…**


	25. Dirty Money

**Hallo. **

**heart.angel.93, Irena and Michelle: So glad for those wonderful reviews!!!**

**Especially good to hear from you Michelle. I'm sorry that I also have been little silent from this end of the world. Hopefully this won't last long. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 25 Dirty Money

The sun was setting and the sky had that special crimson colour. A lonely car was driving through empty streets. It was rather is since the main traffic was heading to Opera Populaire, where the opening night of **Don Juan Triumphant** was about to begin. Anatole Garron was also heading there but first he had a certain matter to take care of.

He drove his car to an empty parking space and step out, carrying a suitcase. He walked around a bit, circling the place. He didn't have to wait for long.

"Over here, Jerome" said a voice from the shadows. Joe Buquet was leaning against a wall. "Sorry I didn't make myself known earlier, but I had to make sure you didn't bring anyone with you".

"You've become careful then" Anatole said.

"I've learned to be, especially when dealing with you. Did you bring the money?" Buquet asked.

Anatole raised his suitcase.

"All 20 million euros?"

"Every last one and let me assure, it wasn't easy to get" Anatole said.

Buquet took a hand out of his pocket, carrying a small gun and pointing Anatole. "Put the case down and walk away. But first open it. I'm not tacking any risks that you've put some bomb in there or something" Buquet said.

Anatole sighed and put his suitcase to the ground and opened it. Then he walked few meters back. Buquet started to approach, his gun pointed to Anatole constantly. "Don't get cocky there, Jerome. I'm still a hell of a shooter" he said.

Anatole just watched as Buquet moved closer and finally looked into a suitcase. 20 million euros in cash, all in 100 euros bills in 1000 euros packs. Buquet took one pack and let his fingers examine it. Then he laughed.

"20 million! Mine! All mine!!!" he laughed.

Anatole lazily clapped his hands. "Bravo, you got me there. Now get the hell out of my life" he said tiredly.

"Why should I not shoot you here? There's nothing to trace it back to me. I should pay you back your courtesy-"Buquet started but suddenly stopped.

The gun and suitcase both fell from his trembling hands as his entire body started to shake. Eyes wide he looked at Anatole and saw a sadistic smirk on his face. "You…you…how…" Buquet mumbled.

"You didn't actually think I'm stupid enough to let you leave her alive? Not when you know so much of me. You could hand me to police, or continue blackmailing me or use me in some other means. I knew bomb in suitcase or gun hidden in pocket would be useless so I tried to be more creative. There's a bit of poison put in those bills. When you touched it the poison went to you through your skin. I'm afraid you won't last long" Anatole said.

Then Anatole walked fast to the trembling Buquet, whose face was redder than usual, kicked his gun away and took the suit case. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to attain to an opera" he said.

Buquet could do nothing but watch as Anatole walked to his car and drove away. His throat felt tight, breathing was hard and his limbs were becoming numb. _How the hell…that fuck…prick…I'll kill him…somehow…I must…shit…_

Suddenly Buquet could feel a presence behind him. With all his might he turned around, desperate for some help. However, when he turned he had to wonder if the poison was causing him to hallucinate. He saw a tall man dressed in black tuxedo, with long black hair and a mask covering his face. Behind the slits shinning eyes were watching him keenly.

"Good evening, Joseph Buquet" the man said with a deep, powerful voice.

Buquet tried to talk while taking a step towards the man. "Please…I need help…hospital…" he stammered.

"Help?" the masked man asked. "To you? But Buquet, don't you see. You have been beyond help for so long already. You already sealed your fate 25 years ago then".

Buquet fell to his knees. "I beg you…help me…"

The man tilted his head, watching Buquet, like a snake watching its prey. "I'm following your advice" he suddenly said.

"What?" Buquet panted.

"Try to remember while you can. 25 years ago then. You were backstage worker in Opera Populaire, managed by Monsieur Gerard Carriere. You remained in that work until a young composer and singer who also worked there, discovered that you had secretly photographed ballerinas in their dressing rooms".

"_He has been sending these photos to internet illegally" a young man with shinning green eyes and black hair said. _

"_Is this true, Buquet?" Gerard Carriere asked, sitting behind his desk. _

_Buquet swallowed but then glared. "Well, if your mighty monsieur Claudin says so, then it's true" he said. _

"_Should we inform the police?" Carriere said, looking to young man. _

_The man sighed. "I wouldn't want to rob a freedom from any man, but I would not want him working in my theatre" he said. _

"_YOUR theatre, Erik?" Carriere asked. _

"_I spoke considering your position" young man said. _

_Carriere was amused. "Go and collect your things, Buquet, before we call the police. You're no longer welcome to this theatre" he said to the stage worker. _

_Buquet turned to look the young man. "You should not be so generous, Erik Claudin. It will cost you one day" he said before leaving. _

"You remember, don't you? Those were your very words to me, Buquet. And I am now following your advice. I've stopped being generous" masked man said.

Buquet's face was white as a chalk and he was trembling on the ground. "You can't be…he was taken…" he whispered.

"Ah, yes. Taken indeed. Accused by a letter without name. Accused innocently. You knew, Buquet. You were there when it happened, that night in Café dell Opera. You were there as Cholet and de Chagny made the letter" the masked man said.

"They did…not I…" Buquet tried.

"But neither did you say a word when I was taken. You didn't tell the truth to the world. You watched from aside, from safe. Just as I am watching now aside, not telling the world that you need help" said the deep voice.

Then the tall man leaned down closer to Buquet, whose face was turning blue. "But don't you worry", he whispered to Buquet, "you get off with ease. What's happening to you now is nothing compared what I'm going to do to others. Consider yourself lucky".

"You're not him…not him…" Buquet managed to cough out of him.

"Well, judge yourself then" the man said and removed his mask.

Buquet's eyes winded more than they had before and his face was twisted by utter terror. With what any strength left in him he tried to get as far from the man as possible. Desperately he tried to force his numb limbs to obey him, but all he managed to do was move to his side. Then a sudden pain hit him, making his whole body twist unnaturally. A hideous, twisted sound came from the back of his throat and then he was silent.

Joseph 'Joe' Buquet was dead.

Count Paradise placed the mask back to his face and stood up. He turned around. "Did we get everything we need?"

A dark skinned man stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, milord" Nadir said.

"And are all the preparations for tonight's opera been made?" Count asked.

"Yes, sir. Everything is ready, waiting for your signal".

Count nodded and turned to look Buquet's dead, terror twisted face.

_One down, three to go. _

**To be continued…**


	26. Don Juan Triumphant

**Hallo and once again thank you for all the great reviews!**

**The conspiracy that lead Raoul to write the letter was already revealed in chapter 20, I think. **

Chapter 26 Don Juan Triumphant

If there was one thing Allan Cholet loved about opening nights, it was seeing the huge crowd of people gathering in the theatre. In his eyes they all represented large sums of money, all coming to him. Nothing could have made him happier.

He started to feel better. This opera had had him feel nervous the entire production. Not only because it was an opera that brought back unwanted memories, but also because to fulfil Count's requests Cholet was forced to put large sums of his own money to the budget. It was something he hated, putting his own money in the line of fire. But this time he told himself it was totally worth it. The people alone gathering here would repay the money lost in the production and Count would donate another huge sum of money to him.

_Speaking of him where the heck is he?_

Anatole Garron walked the steps up, greeting Cholet. "Sorry that I'm little late. I met an old friend and was delayed. But I doubt he is going to bother me again" he said. "Maria isn't here?" he asked when noticing.

"I'm afraid she is still cross for this engagement and won't be attending. Give her little time, Anatole, she'll come around" Cholet said.

Anatole noticed Carlotta Cholet standing next to her husband. "Why, madam, shouldn't you be in your dressing room, getting ready?" he asked.

"I'm not performing. I'm afraid that I haven't been feeling that well lately to attend rehearsals" Carlotta said. Truthfully, ever since that dreaded evening in Count's villa she had pretty much stayed locked in her room, emptying her wine storage.

Anatole stepped forward, taking Carlotta's hand a placing a small kiss to it. "But, madam. It would certainly be a crime against arts if you should stop performing. I'm hoping to see a more of you in near future" he said with a low voice.

Carlotta felt her cheeks getting warmer. Cholet was oblivious for he had just noticed someone.

"My dear Count Paradise, I was beginning to think you won't come" Cholet said.

"I would not miss this for any price, I have waited this evening for quite some time now. I was delayed by a certain unfinished matter that called my attention" the masked Count said. "I must thank you before hand already for putting so much effort to fulfil my simple request of seeing an unknown composer's opera. I am sure to remember this".

Cholet forced an easy laugh, forcing himself of thinking the profit. "It was nothing, Count. I do hope you will enjoy".

"I'm sure I will" Count said. He turned his attention to the younger man. "Anatole, you can probably sit with Monsieur and Madame Cholet in their box. I feel like I could do with privacy. Unless either of you have something to object".

"Not at all, Count. We've become quite fond of young monsieur Garron" Cholet said.

"Then I bid you good evening" Count said and disappeared to crowd.

Ten minutes later everyone had taken their seats in the auditorium. Cholet, Carlotta and Anatole were sitting in manager's box, Count was sitting opposite of them in box 5. There were other important people, like Count and Countess de Chagny. All the seats and boxes were filled, a full house.

There was a knock on the door and a box carer appeared. "Excuse me, monsieur Cholet, but this letter is addressed to you and it was said to be urgent" he said, handing a letter to Cholet.

Cholet opened the letter.

_**My dear Manager, **_

_**For years I have been**__** forced to watch how you have used this grand theatre as a means to satisfy your greed. I have seen how you have destroyed lives in order to achieve your goals, how the sufferings of others mean nothing to you. I have seen this and much more and sat back, doing nothing. But enough is enough!**_

_**Now you are trying to satisfy your greediness with an opera written by one of your victims. I can take this insolence towards the Holy Arts no longer. I shall give you one last chance to redeem yourself by not performing this opera and returning the money these people have paid. If you will not then a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! **_

_**Yours truly,**_

_**The Phantom of the Opera**_

Cholet stared the letter in silent shock. _Who would…who could have? Is this a joke? No, it can not be, it says here 'written by one of your victims'. But who could possibly know? And to put a stop for this and return the money? The losses would be too much!_

"Is something wrong, dear?" Carlotta asked.

Just then the lights of the auditorium dimmed. "No, nothing at all" Cholet said and ripped the letter quietly. _Damn this ghost, whoever he is. There is no way I would back out just because of a silly thread. _

The opera started. The letter had put him so distressed that he more or less just sat there, thinking what he should do with the matter. After an hour he was so oblivious to anything around her, that he didn't even hear the quiet conversation between his wife and Anatole, right beside him.

"This music is very…interesting, wouldn't you say?" Anatole whispered in Carlotta's ear.

Carlotta couldn't deny it, though interesting barely covered it. Sensual, erotic was closer to truth. Carlotta had prided herself with knowing all the types of music, but never had she heard something like this. Now she regretted not attending the rehearsals. Just listening the music was already doing wonders to her, making her want to listen to it…more privately.

"Yes, very interesting" she whispered back.

"The composer must have been…possessed by passion" Anatole whispered, his breath warming Carlotta's ear.

Carlotta gulped, feeling heat all over her body. "Um, yes".

Anatole didn't move his head away but instead kept blowing warm air to her neck, while his hand was doing slow, sensual circles over her leg. Carlotta was forced to keep her mouth shut not to make any sounds that might call for unwanted attention. But it was getting harder and harder as the young man beside her was obviously enjoying greatly.

The sudden scream from the stage broke the magic.

Everyone saw that the singer in the stage, who had been just about to get to her big ending that would have ended act 1, was looking above to the ceiling in obvious terror. Cholet also followed her gaze to the up.

_Oh dear God, no!_

The huge chandelier was swinging above the seats unnaturally. Obviously it had some how gotten loose from it chains. Screams filled the auditorium and people started to retread from their seats and head to the door. Also people in boxes went as far as they could, obviously dreading the chandelier would crush on them.

The chandelier suddenly started to fall straight down with a huge speed and stopped in midair when one final chain still caught it, directing to the stage. Actors, singers, dancers and the musicians in orchestra ran away as fast as they could. The huge chandelier crashed right in the middle of the stage, setting the sets and the curtains in fire.

Now, if Allan Cholet had paid more closer attention, he might have noticed how suspiciously soon fire brigade, ambulances and even police arrived to the opera house. If he had paid closer attention he might have also noticed that someone had already opened the front- and backdoors, thus allowing an easier escape to people.

However, Cholet did not pay attention to any of these curiosities. Instead he looked blankly to the people in obvious terror and shock running the stairs down and outside from his opera house, and the smoke that was coming out of the windows. He saw all this and could only think that he had lost a fortune.

In a dark car, parked near by, Count Paradise sat in the backseat.

"There doesn't seem to be any casualties" he stated matter-of-factly.

"Still, it was a huge risk, even with all the precautions" Nadir said from drivers seat, a hint of resentment in his voice.

Count pretended not to have heard of this. "I wonder if Paris is able to take all these scandals that are about to happen in such a short time" he muttered. _Don't think that this is the worst that can happen to you, Cholet. The Phantom of your past isn't satisfied yet. _

**To be continued…**

**As you have probably noticed by now, my fic is filled with tributes to other POTO versions, especially to other movies, as I have named almost every character after them. In this chapter the chandelier fall was dedication to ALW's stage musical, as in it chandelier falls in the end of act 1 and here it fell in the end of Don Juan's act 1. Also the sensual music was from Susan Kay's book, that completely threw me to floor when I read Christine's…ahem, reaction to Erik's music.**


	27. Wedding Plans

**Hello and thank you again to all who reviewed! You make my life happier. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 27 Wedding Plans

Charles de Chagny was quite ready to break down the very walls of Cholet residence if needed to talk with Maria. He had been very worried and panicked when his mother had told about the accident in Opera Populaire. But she had assured him that Maria had not attended Opera and even if she had been present no one had been seriously hurt, miracle itself.

Yet, during the whole day he hadn't been able to reach to her in any ways and now sun was already setting. Tomorrow was his fathers hearing and day after that would be his duel with Andre. Charles had wanted to talk to privately with Maria before that, explain that his…feelings for her had changed. _No, not changed. Just become…deeper. _

"Well well well…little viscount, what an honour" a smug sneering voice said.

Charles turned his head to see Anatole Garron watching him. The man had a self satisfied smirk on his face. "Why do you torment these fine people when they clearly don't want to see you?" he asked.

Charles was tempted to see how much he could torment this one. "My business is for Mari…Mademoiselle Cholet to hear only" he settled to say.

"My wife will not see you" Anatole said.

Charles felt something stinging badly in his chest. "Wife? I have not heard of any weddings" he said.

"You will, they will be held next week. I'm afraid that we won't invite you if you keep harassing them like this" Anatole said, waving his hand to make his point.

"Hara-? Excuse me, but I have been very hard to try and meet a dear friend of mine. If she has accepted to marry you I'd like to hear it from her" Charles said defiantly as his head was screaming _it's not true, it's not true!_

Anatole snorted. "There's nothing you can do anymore, Romeo. Because of yesterdays disaster Cholet has been forced to give huge amounts of money to different sources. He has been forced to pay the rebuilding of the stage, return the money to the audience as well as compensations, and pay so much for actors and crew members who put so much effort in this opera. Even all the sums Cholet got from the Count went to this all. It would take years to get back to the lifestyle they had unless…they get money from other sources".

Charles felt sick. "Through the marriage, you mean".

Anatole smiled. "Precisely".

"I can't believe Maria would have agreed to this". _Not her who stands against so much._

Anatole laughed. "She may seem like a feisty little rebel but she doesn't have a choice. She needs to save her family. And in a year or so I have, how should I put this….tame her" he said.

Charles saw red. Without thinking he ran towards Anatole, ready to beat him. Anatole however smoothly stepped aside and with his leg made Charles fall to the ground. Then Anatole put his foot on Charles, preventing him from getting up.

"I've seen the way you look at her, you pathetic little boy. You think a woman like her would settle for you. Especially since tomorrow decides if the name de Chagny is any good anymore" he said.

With that Anatole left, laughing very merrily and left Charles contemplating of what to do.

Unknown to Charles, Maria was having a fight of her own inside the house.

"Get married?! With him?!!! NEXT WEEK!!!!"

"Next Wednesday to be precise" Allan Cholet said to his daughter.

"Never! Never, never, never!!! You can't make me do it! You don't have the authority to-"

"For God's sake, Maria, stop living in your dream world and wake up! Our family is on the brink of a bankruptcy! We have to do something!" Cholet, who didn't feel like playing around, had completely lost his coolness when facing the possibility of poverty.

"But you have money! From insurance and Count Paradise-" Maria tried to counteract.

"Gone! All gone! It all went to paying the expenses of the auditorium and new chandelier. I have to use Count's money to pay compensations to the audience and theatre crew. But even that's not enough. Angry mob will attack us, robbing us of our money unless we can somehow pay. Do you want to end up living in a street? Think of your mother, you selfish girl!" Cholet, in all his hypocrisy, said.

Maria gaped at her father as he walked to the door and talked to a servant. "Make sure Maria is comfortable in her quarters and that she doesn't go anywhere before the wedding" he said.

"What?!!" Maria shouted.

"And make sure none of her friends visit her, especially not viscount de Chagny" Cholet added.

Maria jumped towards her father like a wild animal ready to kill, but Cholet closed the door and locked it in time. Maria hit the door with her fists and shouted curses, to no avail. Ultimately she had to admit being defeated.

And it was then that the terror crept in to her. _Married…I'm going to be married in a few days. To that…that fiend! I can't be…it can't go like this. Why does it go like this? Just because I was born to this family…but it's true, no matter what I can't turn my back to them…_

Frustration, anger and sadness overwhelmed her. She was in a trap with no way out. Letting out a cry she took a table lamp and threw it across the room. It hit a pile of her birthday presents that she hadn't bothered to open, knowing there was just useless decorations she had no use for. The presents went all over the floor, one small package coming very close to her. She noticed the familiar hand writing.

_It's from Charles. Father said that he especially wasn't allowed to see me. _

Maria took the package and opened it. She pulled a necklace out of it. However, it did not have a pearl or a diamond in it. It had a small stone in it, with a fossilised animal, probably fish, in it.

_I…I remember this stone. We found it on a beach, years ago then, when we were still kids. Charles didn't liked it so I made him take it, saying it's more beautiful than some petty diamond my mother wears. I didn't think he even remembered it…and he made it a necklace for me. _

Suddenly all kinds of memories of Charles came to her mind. She had known him almost her whole life. Always happy boy, who didn't take much too seriously, but who had a big heart. And a very warming smile. Maria gasped and then smiled.

_I see…I might have fallen for him quite some time ago then. _

Below Maria's feet, in Carlotta's room.

"Brink me another bottle!" Carlotta shouted.

"Maybe you should let your servants get a little rest once in a while".

Carlotta nearly jumped in her seat. "Anatole! I thought you had left already" she said.

The younger man came towards her. "How could I have left before making sure that you're alright, Madame? These past days must have been so very stressful for you, fearing of loosing your wealth" he said.

Carlotta huffed. "My husband would die first than allow us to become poor. Besides, there is nothing to worry about is there, son-in-law?"

Anatole smirked. "Of course not, Madame. When I enter the family I will take it as my duty to make sure you are all doing fine" he said, getting behind sitting Carlotta, who watched him from her mirror.

"What are you doing?" Carlotta asked, small smile on her face.

"Starting my duties, of course" Anatole said and started massaging her shoulders.

Carlotta hummed approvingly. "You have past experience of this, don't you?"

"I have experience of many things" Anatole whispered huskily to her.

"I'll be the judge of that" Carlotta said before kissing Anatole.

"But of course" Anatole managed to say before pulling Carlotta out of her chair and stumbling to bed.

And if Carlotta would have known how to read minds, she would have heard a victorious laugh emerging from Anatole's head.

**To be continued…**


	28. The Hearing

**Hallo my dear readers! It's time for the new chappy. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 28 The Hearing

Gilles Andre was all but sweating in the huge auditorium. The dreaded Monday of Count de Chagny's hearing had finally arrived and with it God only knows what disasters. Andre was sitting in one of the rows, surrounded by people. Count de Chagny was publicly liked man and the case had woken a huge interest. Andre nervously rubbed his hands together, praying they would allow him to smoke here.

Yesterday he had received a new email saying that everything will be revealed in the hearing. _God, I truly hope so. If this thing blows to my face I'm as good as dead. I will be all but crucified. And tomorrow I would have to duel against Charles!_

Andre made a careful glance to the direction he had seen the de Chagny family to come. Charles was looking everywhere but his direction. Countess Christine seemed to be calm, but who really knew how she felt.

Count Raoul de Chagny himself was sitting in a front row, with his assistants beside him. He was dressed in his blue uniform, his medals of honour shining for everyone to see. He was smiling and greeting everyone he knew without a worry in the world.

_I'm fucked, _Andre thought.

The right honourable judge finally spoke. "Monsieur le Comte de Chagny, we are all fully aware of your heroic and splendid record during the war. Therefore we wish to express to you that this committee is indeed shocked and outraged by these articles of Parisian Network. It is said in these accusations that you betrayed the confidence of Sultan of Mazandera by betraying him to Russians and thereby causing the slaughter of the entire royal family. It pains me to ask this but…how do you reply, Count de Chagny?"

Raoul de Chagny stood up. "There is no need for me to start giving fancy speeches of proving my innocence. The facts will do it for me" he said. His assistance gave him a file. "These documents were recorded during the war in Mazandera and it was witnessed by numerous people. In these documents the Sultan proved his absolute confidence in me by making me a General and allowing me, a foreigner to his country, to advice in the coming battle. Not only that, but in these documents the Sultan also leaves his family for me to take care of, should something happened to him" Raoul declared.

There was lots of whispering and gossiping in the audience.

"What happened then? During the time the Russians took over Mazandera?" judge asked.

"Because of my position in leading the battle I couldn't be anywhere near the royal palace when enemy took it over. The moment it was safe to lead our troops back it was already too late. Sultan and his family were dead" Raoul said, ending with a quieter voice.

Then he straightened himself. "And now my loyalty, my bravery and my honour have been put to question. By some article that even refuses to reveal its sources. I refuse to be mocked by something like this. If there really is someone who questions me, than let him come forward and face me himself!" he shouted.

There was applauds from the audience. Raoul de Chagny had always known how the charm the audience. While Raoul faced the people and gave a reassuring smile to his family, a messenger brought a letter to the judge who read it before speaking.

"Monsieur le Comte, this committee believes in your words and records. Therefore I think you will be happy to hear this message I have just received. It says as follows: I was present at the murder of Sultan and his family. I know how it happened. I wish to be heard by the committee. Do you have any objections of hearing this witness, Count?" judge asked.

For a moment Raoul had lost his smile but it regain quickly. "Let him in" he said.

A moment later the doors opened and a figure walked inside. The person was dressed in beautiful robes of green and gold, skin of hazel brown and a surprisingly silvery blonde hair.

"Ayesha?" Charles breathed in surprise.

Ayesha walked in front of the judge, so that everyone, the masses of people and Count de Chagny included, could see her. The silent woman Sasha walked behind her, carrying stack of files. Ayesha bowed to the judge.

"I thank the committee for hearing me" she said.

"Please, identified yourself and your business with this case" judge said.

"I am Princess Ayesha, the youngest child of Sultan of Mazandera" she said.

The whispering that had been heard before was nothing compared to the obvious gasps of shock coming everywhere from the audience. Sasha handed the files to the judge.

"When you examine these files you will find documents and certifications of my birth, my identity, finger prints and DNA tests done by experts. If you wish, you can how them to be done to me again by a doctor of your own choosing" Ayesha said.

Raoul looked at the young woman like she was some monster that had come to demand his soul. Judge was obviously very awkward.

"If you truly are who you say you are, then perhaps you can tell us what happened on the day Mazandera was invaded by Russians" he finally settled to say.

"Certainly. Everything is mainly as the so-called official statements say, except one important difference. The Russians did not invade in Mazandera, they were allowed to come" she said.

"What?!" Judge was unable to hide his surprise.

Ayesha turned around. For once her eyes, usually so calm or emotional, were burning. She extended her arm to the direction of Raoul. "This man, General de Chagny they called him then, was the most trusted diplomatic officer under my father's command. My father trusted him so much that he allowed de Chagny alone to plan the war and attacks. How often did my father call you his friend and reward you of the smallest things you did?" Ayesha asked, looking straight to Raoul.

"But you were not his friend. You betrayed him when it was most profitable to you. I heard rumours the Russians paid you pretty well. In fact wasn't your family in a danger of loosing their title till you suddenly returned victorious? You never had any fight against Russians. You let them in our city, in our palace. You traitor! You murderer!" she shouted. "Yes, murderer! It was you who pulled the trigger and send my father to his death!"

The entire room was in silence. Raoul de Chagny was as pale as a sheet and slightly shaking. Now Ayesha was looking at him with furious look, her eyes filling with tears. "After my father and my brothers were killed, you sold me and my mother to slaves. It was in slavery that I lost my mother and it was in slavery I had to live" she said.

"Do you have any proof?" shouted a voice and everyone turned to see Countess Christine standing, watching Ayesha.

Ayesha pulled her sleeve up and exposed the branded mark on her skin that declared her as nothing more than a property. Another numerous gasps were heard and Christine watched the mark with disbelief.

"Monsieur le Comte, what do you have to say for this?" judge asked.

Raoul snapped. "Lies! They're all lies! This woman is obviously an imposter, a skilled actress who has faked ids! And do you know how I'm sure of this? Because if Princess of Mazandera had survived and made a slave, she couldn't possibly have lived this far!" he shouted.

"Then it's a good thing I found her in time" said a new voice from the door. Everyone turned to look the tall masked man standing by the door.

_COUNT?!! _Charles looked at the man in shock.

"In that stack of files you will find a document that states that I, Count Paradise, bought Ayesha from her slavery. She is now a free woman with a right to speak" Count stated matter-of-factly.

Charles felt something cold wash over him. _Count…did you know that she would…do something like this…If you did why…why did you allow it? Why won't you stop her?_

"Count de Chagny, what do you have to say for yourself?" judge asked.

Raoul couldn't hear anything. He saw numerous people watching him, saw their eyes searching him, saw their mouths move. But he couldn't hear anything. He felt sweat running down his forehead and his hands shaking, no matter how hard he tried to control them. He looked around himself, frantically, trying to find a way out. And then his eyes met Christine's. Her eyes were watching him, asking from him if it was true, asking him to stand up again and tell it was a lie. Those eyes of hers. Those beautiful brown eyes he had always loved, always wanted to look at. He felt them piercing his very soul.

Raoul walked out of the room hurriedly.

An outburst broke and everyone was whispering to another. In the huge crowd Andre sighed in relief though he didn't feel that good, Christine looked after her husband with sunken feeling and Charles looked at the Count, who didn't even glance to his direction.

**To be continued…**

**Honest reviews. No flames please. **


	29. The Rain

**Hallo my dear readers. It always feels so good to hear from you, I'm really lucky to have such faithful readers. **

**If anyone has happened to see anime version of Count of Monte Cristo, called "Gankutsuou", they might recognise similarities with this chapter and episode 17. Just saying now so no one can blame me later. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1.**

Chapter 29 The Rain

"Charles, are you sure this is such a good idea?" Harry Hunter asked.

The hearing of Raoul de Chagny had ended some hours ago then. After Count de Chagny had left the courtroom, Princess Ayesha had presented very thoroughly her evidences. In the end there was no longer a question left for her identity and the judge with other higher ups, retreated to think how to settle this mess. Count de Chagny had locked himself in his house.

And his son Charles was currently driving a car towards the residence owned by Count Paradise. His head was filled with questions. _He knew. He must have known of Ayesha's past. He must have been aware that she would reveal it all. He didn't stop her, he couldn't for she has her rights. But why didn't he warn us? _

The sky was filled with dark clouds and it was raining. Harry was sitting next to Charles in the car. He had heard what had happened. _I knew it. I knew there was something fishy about that Count. Is he truly such a double faced bastard that he would befriend Charles and then destroy his father? _

"Charles, maybe you shouldn't-" Harry tried.

"Then what should I do?!" Charles asked vehemently.

Harry became quiet. He prayed Count wouldn't see them. However, he noticed that they were indeed out of luck. Just as they arrived to the house that lead to Count's underground apartment, they saw Count and Ayesha coming out of a car, with Sasha and Nadir close to them.

Charles stopped his car, got out and started walk towards the masked person. "Count!" he shouted.

Count Paradise turned to look at Charles. Harry, who was close behind, could have sworn the weather became colder. The rain fell down on him, Charles and Count, who was wearing a black cape to cover his suit. Ayesha was standing under and umbrella that Nadir was holding.

Charles didn't stop until he was standing in front of the Count. For a moment the two were just looking each others, neither saying anything.

It was Charles that broke the silence. "Why, Count? Please, explain this to me" he said.

Count was quiet before replying. "Go home, boy. Your mother needs you" he said. There was nothing pleasant in his voice. It was cold, free of emotions.

Charles snapped. "Why did this happen, Count? Why did you allow it? Aren't we friends, Count? Didn't you save my life? Answer me, Count!" he shouted.

Count sighed audibly. "You…you really don't get it, do you? You really refuse to open your eyes to reality. I guess I can't blame you. I was once like you, in a previous life. So very naïve" he said.

"Explain!" Charles shouted.

"If Ayesha wouldn't know about your father, why do you think I would have her with me wherever I go?" Count asked.

"What?" Charles asked, his voice filled with surprise and dread.

"Charles, what other reason do you think I would have had to save you if you weren't de Chagny's son? Why do you think I planned it all? Your kidnapping and rescue in New Budapest. Why would I go through all that trouble just for you?"

Charles eyes winded and his face was pale. "You…you planned it all? You planned it all to…to use me. Only to use me" he stammered.

"Yes, I planned our meeting to gain your trust and your friendship. So that you could introduce me to my preys. I took your trust and your friendship and used them to gain position and reputation. I used them to get close to your father before destroying him and the cursed de Chagny name" Count spoke softly.

Charles stared at him. "No…no that can't…That can not be true! It's lies, Count! Didn't you help me when I came to ask your advices? Didn't you also share our friendship?!" he shouted. "I…I can't believe it was all a lie" he said.

Count watched him, his mask betrayed no emotions. Then his shoulders started to slightly shake and a muffled voice was heard under the mask. Soon the voice became more audible and it sounded like chuckling. And then Count drew his head back so the rain fell to his mask and let out a thunderous laugh, that echoed in the street. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, pleasant in that laugh.

The laugh finally quieted down and Count spoke, his voice filled with amusement. "Foolish boy", he addressed Charles, "even after all this you want to believe your naive fantasy. I send Ayesha to reveal the truth of your father, and it was I who gave Andre the story to report" he said.

Then Count bowed his head. "You were very useful to me, Charles. I sincerely thank you" he said.

Charles was shaking. Emotions were running wildly in him. The embarrassment, sadness and rage that was production of his failed attempts to meet Maria, being humiliated by Anatole and hearing about his father, exploded inside of him. He took a glove from his pocket and threw it right across Count's mask.

"Charles!" Harry shouted, shocked beyond belief.

Charles ignored him. "I demand a duel!" he shouted.

Count chuckled. "I'm under the impression you already have one scheduled" he said.

"I'll call Andre and apologise. It was foolish to blame him. The place has been arranged tomorrow morning at 6 am in the old Notre Dame Cathedral. Weapons are guns but we can change them if you prefer" Charles declared.

Count sighed again. "A noble man till the very end, I see. Charles, viscount of de Chagny, I accept your duel and guns suit me perfectly. Nadir, you'll be my second".

The dark skinned man, who had been watching the scene with worry, answered quietly. "Yes, milord".

"Till tomorrow then, Charles. Good night" Count said, turned around and with his comrades, went inside.

Charles and Harry were left standing in the rain. Harry looked at his friend with worry. He had no idea how good Count Paradise was with guns, but now he believed Count would be able to harm Charles or even worse.

"Charles…" he tried.

"You tried to tell me, Harry. You didn't believe in him, you didn't trust him" Charles said, his shoulders shaking violently. He let out a roar and hit his fist to the wall, with such a force that his knuckles bled. "Damn it, damn it all to hell!"

Underground:

Ayesha was watching Count who removed his cape. "Milord, you won't do it, will you? You won't really duel against Charles" she pleaded.

"It's already decided" Count said.

"But…but milord, he is innocent!" Ayesha tried again, approaching the Count.

"That will be all, Ayesha. Go to your room" Count said mercilessly, raising his hand in front of Ayesha.

She whimpered. "Please don't…"

Suddenly Count let out a pained voice and fell to his knees. Nadir was at once at his side. "Milord, your condition…" he said.

Count showed him away. "I'm fine. Just bring me my medicine and leave me to rest. I'll be fine by morning" he said, shakily standing back up and slowly walking to his quarters.

An hour later he lay in his bed, breathing steadily. His mask was beside him. He slowly raised his hand up and touched his cheek, feeling moisture there.

"It's too late to regret now…I can only go on till the very end" he said quietly.

Still, he couldn't shake of the alien feeling inside of him, that was eating him. It felt like…regret.

There was knock on the door. "Milord?" Nadir's voice asked.

"What is it, Nadir?"

"There is a visitor on our door, asking to see you. Countess de Chagny".

Count was silent, holding his breath. "Let her in".

**To be continued…**


	30. Erik

**Thank you again for all who cared to review this story. They always make me happy. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 30 Erik

Countess Christine de Chagny was lead to the underground apartment through the same boat ride her son had also gone through. Although in other circumstances she would have been awed by this achievement in architect, at the moment she paid very little attention to it. Her mind was occupied by other things. It had been earlier the day that she had learned the truth about her husband's heroic deeds in Mazandera, too little time for her to fully think of it yet. Raoul had locked himself away from outside world, refusing to answer to anyone, even to her. She would have probably kept banging his door the whole night had it not been the phone call she received.

The white faced and black haired silent servant of Count, named Lajos, lead her to a magnificent looking room that had a huge fireplace lit. Lajos bowed before leaving Christine to the room. She walked around the room for a while, looking the walls that had different paintings. She stopped to look one especially that was a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair. Christine felt light headed. The woman in the picture looked so much like the one she had known many years ago then, a woman who was always kind to her and who wanted best to her son.

A door opened and Count step in the room. He was wearing a long black robes and a deep blue coloured mask. His long black hair fell freely to his shoulders.

"Countess, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Count asked, his voice betraying no emotions.

Christine turned to the Count and fell to her knees in front of him. "Have mercy!" she cried.

Count resisted his urge to take a step back. "Why are you kneeling before me? I am no God to be prayed. Stand up, Madame" he said.

Christine shakily stood up.

"Now what is this? Why have you come here?" Count repeated.

"To beg of you not to kill my son" Christine said.

Count was silent for a second. "He told you?"

Christine shook her head. "No, God's no, he wouldn't tell me that. He doesn't want to worry me. He would rather me to find out later when he is dead. It was his friend Mr. Hunter who called me. He told me everything" she said.

"Then, Madame, you know also that it was your son who challenged me. The duel can only be avoided if he cancels it" Count replied coldly.

Christine's face darkened. "He never will. He has taken this as a personal insult. He will not cancel it. But what would you expect him to do? He is his father's son and carries his name. He must defend it!"

"If that is what you think then why have you come here? Surely you don't except me to apologise of uncovering your husbands…past deeds?"

"Charles is no good at using guns. He will loose. It is his first duel" Christine sobbed.

Count nodded. "It is my first duel also. However, without meaning to sound prideful, I am an excellent shooter. Are you asking me to miss? Is that it?"

Christine nodded. "Yes. I beg of you, please miss" she said.

Count shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't possibly do that. You see, we are given two shots. First one will be shot at 60 paces. Because of lack of experience he will miss. I will miss purposely. Then will have the second shots, but this time they will be shot at 30 paces. Charles' chances of hitting me are far better, even for a novice. I'm sorry, Countess, but I will not let your son live long enough to shoot me at 30 paces" Count explained.

Christine's eyes filled with despair. She became frantic. "Then…then wound him. Only wound him so that he can't take the second shot" she said.

"There's no guarantee what will happen. He might be able to continue or he might ask the duel to be postponed till he has recovered. That won't do either" Count said.

Tears fell down Christine's cheeks. "No, please don't do it. I beg of you, don't kill my son. I beg of you, Erik!"

Count's entire posture changed. He didn't stand stonily but his entire body moved with shock. "What name did you say?" he asked quietly.

"Your name, for it's your name. I do know who you are, Count Paradise. I have suspected it a long time now, since we first met. So much has changed, but I recognised you from the tiniest of things that I had familiarised in my youth. Then I learned it was you who made Cholet produce **Don Juan Triumphant**, the opera you talked so much to me. And if we still need some evidences I see the final confirmation on the wall, there!" Christine shouted and pointed the picture of a dark haired woman.

"You may conceal your face behind a mask, Erik, but you can't hide your mother's face" she said.

Count stood still, watching her every move. He didn't speak, maybe he didn't know what to say.

Christine spoke softly. "Why, Erik? After 25 years you suddenly come back and do this to us, to me. Why? Why do you hate us so much?"

Count shook his head. "I don't hate you, Christine. I'm afraid you just were unlucky enough to marry the man I have sworn to destroy" he said.

"Why? Because what he did in Mazandera?"

"No, because what he did to me" Count replied, his voice more forceful.

Christine looked at him. "What has he done to you? Married the woman you loved? Blame me then, Erik. I was alone, I couldn't stand of being alone. Blame me. No matter what Raoul did later, he was always your friend. He was the first to spoke for your behalf when you were taken away" she said.

Count burst out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I'm certain he was. I'm certain they all were: de Chagny, Cholet, d'Arcy and even that worm Buquet. I'm certain they all played their parts perfectly. Concerned friend, worried colleague and so on. They all hid their faces behind masks far less obvious than the one I am wearing. No one ever suspected they were the ones that doomed me. Tell me, Christine, how long did it take before they lied I had died?" Count asked.

Christine was trembling. "Five years after. I received a letter saying you had died in the Devil's Fortress".

"Five years…if only I had been lucky to get off that easily. I was there 18 years. 18 long years I suffered in a hell you can not possibly imagine. Do you want to see what it did to me? Shall I show you what happens to those who enter Devil's Fortress?"

Before Christine had time to reply Count removed his mask, revealing his face. While doing so his long black wig also fell from his shoulders. The hair on his head was far shorter and had already started to loose colour. The skin was pale; sickly so, like it hadn't had sun light in years. But his face…the flesh on his face was distorted and mutilated. Scar tissue covered most of it, and Christine could see veins under the skin. His eyes seemed to have sunken in the skull, his lips had become very thin and his nose…his nose was flat and distorted. Count's face reminded more of a monster in wax museum than any living human being.

Christine's eyes were wide as she watched. "Oh my God…" she whispered. Was this really the face of the man whom she had loved and cared for so much in her younger years? Was this the same face she had kissed so many times?

Finally she had to turn her face away.

Count spoke bitterly. "Can't look at me, can you? Do you still dare to call that man my friend, who send me in that hell whole? For you, Christine, yes for you! He wanted you and I stood in his way. That was his only reason. Of course he wasn't alone in it, and trust me they will all feel my wrath. One has already done so".

"And for that you will kill Charles?" Christine asked, helplessness in her voice.

Count was silent as he put his mask back on. "I don't have anything against, Charles…he is a very good boy" he said slowly…"but I will not turn back now. Even if it means to end de Chagny line for good".

Christine cried. "Isn't there anything left of the Erik I knew?"

"Whose fault is that? Whose fault is it that I lost 18 years of my life? I lost my career, the woman I loved, my name, my face and my mother. I never managed to say goodbye to her. Instead my enemies live in wealth and prosper. When I sleep I see you give yourself to my enemy when I die in eternal hell. I see my mother dying, asking why I am not there. Do you see nightmares like that, Countess? Is there anything from the past that will make you dread the future?" Count asked bitterly, his words biting.

Christine turned to look at him, tears in her blazing eyes. "I've seen nightmares. I have seen how the love of my life murders my son!"

**To be continued… **


	31. Mother's Plea

**Hello everyone! **

**All the reviews made me so glad, especially hearing from you Michelle, always makes me happy. Also heart.angel.93, your reaction was exactly the likes I'm fishing. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 31 Mother's Plea 

"_I have seen how the love of my life murders my son!" _

Count was silent for a long time, staring in to the teary and blazing eyes of his once beloved Christine. Neither of them knew how long the silence lasted before Count broke it, with a unusually silent voice. 

"What did you say?"

Christine wiped her eyes. "Oh, Erik. Can't you see? What use has it been to me to mourn you all these years if it will only cause the death of my son? When I lost you Erik, so many years ago then, I lost my will to live. I lost my voice, I had no will to sing anymore. The opera became dark and gloomy place that I wanted to get rid off" she admitted. 

Count watched as she stood up to face him, never speaking a word. 

"Every day in my life I put a brave face on but inside I feel like shouting and screaming. I was never born for the life of an upper class and even after 20 years I still feel like a stranger amongst them. I have compared every man I have encountered for the past 20 years to you and always find myself still missing and mourning over you. And all this time my only consolation, the only thing to keep me living has been my son, Erik" Christine said. 

She fell to her knees in front of him of exhaustion. 

"Erik, your loneliness, your hatred, your revenge…I'll take it all. Let me endure it all, Erik. Make me suffer, satisfy your wrath on me. I'll endure it all and even worse. But please, Erik, please…do not take me my son. My innocent son" she pleaded. 

The Count couldn't look anymore, he had to turn his back to the sobbing woman in front of him. The gaze in her eyes was too much to bear. For he had seen that gaze before. Not in Christine's eyes, but in the eyes of another woman, so long ago then. 

_25 years earlier:_

_The young man with black hair and yellow-green eyes didn't know it then that this would be the last time he would spend time with the two most important women in his life. Had he known that it was, would he have acted any differently? Would he have tried to change things? Would he have told them how much they meant to him?_

_Erik Claudin was currently having a dinner with his young co-star Christine Daae and with his mother, Madeline Claudin. The place they were eating was Madeline's home: very little room but a cosy atmosphere around it. _

"_A promotion?" Madeline asked, watching her son. _

"_That's right mother. Monsieur Carriere told me about it today. He said that he wanted to promote me as his assistant" Erik said. _

"_But...doesn't that mean that when he retires..." Madeline started. _

"_I'll become the manager of Opera Populaire" Erik finished. _

_Christine was holding Erik's hand, smiling to him, while Madeline gaped at him like a fish out of water. That is before a huge grin appeared to her face and she pulled Erik in an enormous bear hug. _

"_My boy! I'm so proud of you! I always knew you had talents for singing and composing, but running an entire opera...!" she gloated. _

"_Erik would be the perfect choice. No one knows about the different aspects in opera more than he does" Christine said, smiling to the embarrassed Erik who was trying to get out his mother's death grip. _

_Erik looked at Christine. _And maybe then I can afford to be a husband you deserve, _he thought. _

_Just then there was a knock on the door and three police officers walked in. The man in charged looked at the three eating people before turning to Erik. _

"_Erik Claudin?" he asked. _

"_That's my name" answered a highly confused young man. _

"_Erik Claudin, you are hereby arrested by the orders of Ambrose d'Arcy, the head of anti-terrorist investigation department" the police man said. _

"_Arrested?" Christine said, standing up and taking hold of Erik's arm. _

"_Terrorist?" Madeline gasped, as if the word had been some foul curse. _

"_On what charges?" Erik demanded. _

"_That is classified information. Please come with us" the police officer said. _

_Madeline crossed the short distance to the police officer. "No, there must be some kind of a mistake here, my boy is not a terrorist. You can't take him" she pleaded. _

"_Please, Madame, do not make this difficult to us" the officer warned. _

"_But my son-!" Madeline pleaded. _

_Erik, in fear that his mother would get in trouble if this went on, stepped forward. "That's alright, I'll come. There must be a mistake so I need to correct it. I'll come back soon" he said to his mother and then turned to Christine. "I'll come back soon" he repeated. _

_The two women watched as he left with the officers. The younger of them didn't see him again until 25 years later. The elder didn't see him ever again. _

Count Paradise contemplated this memory. The look in Christine's eyes was identical to that in his mother's eyes back then. Count sighed. He had been defeated. 

"Very well, Christine" he said and turned to look at Countess de Chagny, who was gazing him with a hopeful expression. "Very well, I will not kill your son" he said. 

The relief was so great it hurt and Christine took Count's gloved hand and kissed it, muttering "thank you" over and over again. 

Count carefully removed his hand from her, feeling sad when the contact broke. "I shall ask your son to postpone the duel...shall we say with a week, yes that should be fine. Just giving me enough time to finish what I have already started. To tie some unfinished businesses, you see. When that is over, when I have nothing more to do here...then we'll have our duel, and he shall kill me" he said. 

Christine's eyes winded. "What?" she asked. 

"It can only end in the death of one of us. I can not allow him to kill me tomorrow; I have too much to do. But when I've finished, then there is nothing to hold me back anymore. In fact it seems like an ideal end, like some grand opera" Count mused. 

Christine seemed like she wanted to say something, or maybe scream something, but was incabable of doing so. Count carefully placed his hand on her cheek. 

"I don't mind dying. I've been dead for so long already. And this time my dead will bring some happiness to you. Charles can live the life that was denied from us" he said. 

Christine couldn't do anymore. She had got what she had come for, yet it had been gained with a horrible price. With slow dignity she walked to the door and turned one more time around. 

"Goodbye, Erik" she said and left. 

Count was quiet for a long time before whispering "Goodbye, Christine". 

He then let out a bitter laugh. "I should have ripped my heart out of my chest the day I swore vengeance" he laughed bitterly. 

In de Chagny manor: 

Charles was cleaning a gun, it seemed like the best thing he had done in a while. His whole life had been turned upside down in such a short amount of time. His father had been discovered a war criminal and it would only be a matter of time before charges were brought. The man he idolised and thought as a friend had used him and his good will. And Maria was engaged to be married. He had still failed to get any contact to her. 

He looked at the gun. He didn't have much of chanced against the Count. He would die without telling her how he felt. 

Charles raised his head when he heard door opening and saw his mother. "Mother? What is it?"

Christine walked to her son. "Charles, there is something you need to know" she said. 

**To be continued…**


	32. Waiting

**Okay people, I think I need to explain couple of things about this chapter first. This is very short, and doesn't have any dialogue at all. It's so called "filler" chapter between two important events, since I realised I couldn't just jump to my next chapter like that. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. **

**Thank you for all the readers, you make me very happy. Special thanks to my new readers: L'oiseau-lyre and Angie38. I hope to hear from you more! **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 32 Waiting

Charles de Chagny was confused and frustrated. What his mother had told him the previous day was still amazing and hurting him deeply. Was it true? Could such a thing really have happened between his mother, father and the Count? Was that why Count so suddenly send him a message requesting that they push their duel for a week forward? The sudden pushing forward had first infuriated Charles even further; it had seemed to him like the Count was mocking him, _granting_ him a week time to practise. Yet, after the initial rage had subsided Charles came to realise something. He probably wasn't any good against the Count, especially since he seemed to hate de Chagny's from the bottom of his heart. Thus Charles would have rushed to his death, leaving certain things unfinished. He cursed himself of how he had forgotten Maria, purposely pushed her and any thoughts of her marriage out of his head and concentrated only to his family and the Count. Anatole had been right: the de Chagny name wasn't worth anything anymore. Yet Charles was more determined than ever to speak with Maria. Only that he wasn't invited to the wedding that would be held tomorrow. But he wasn't going to let that put him down. Not when the future was so uncertain and he finally understood what things mattered to him more than honour and name. And so he was waiting for an opportunity.

Countess Christine de Chagny could not remember a time in her life when she would have worried as much. Even when she had been young and Erik had been taken felt nothing compared to this terror rising inside of her. Had it been wise to tell Charles the truth? To make him known that the man he would kill was his mother's first and only love? Or would it only made him more determined to cut this Count out of their lives? And what if Erik…no, what if Count would betray his promise? What if he was only playing with her just as he seemed to play with everyone else? Maybe he would kill Charles as his final act of revenge and leave her all alone. The thought was unbearable to her. Maybe Count did hate her and blame her as he hated and blamed the others. She wouldn't blame if he did. What a silly girl she had been, believing in all those worried eyes and comfort that her "friends" wanted to give, when they had caused this misfortune. She had given up on so much, would she have to give even more? And she did know that it was no matter that which one would come alive from the duel. It would be her loss either way. She was now packing her things. The de Chagny manor could never again be her home, no matter how many years she had already lived in it and how many laughs and tears she had given there. Raoul had disappeared, no body knew where. And while she packed, she waited with dread how things would turn out.

Count Raoul de Chagny had gone underground. After the testimony of Ayesha, princess of Mazandera, the higher ups hadn't left a singe stone turned in investigating the event of war and what really happened in Mazandera. When they had come to the conclusion that Raoul was indeed guilty of the crimes Ayesha accused him of, Andre had been more than happy to make it a full article. Now it was only a matter of time before the prosecutor would take the case and he would be taken to trial. But he was not going to give up that easily. No, he was de Chagny, a survivor! Many times defeat had nearly taken him but he still kept going. He had many connections that would insure his security and money that had been quietly transferred to bank accounts under different names. It would be difficult but he, Christine and Charles would be leaving this country and live somewhere with different names. It didn't matter if they had to change the names, they would still be able to keep their life style. And so he waited for the new life.

Harry Hunter felt like there were too many problems and he was pulled in every single one of them. Charles would duel against Count in a week and Harry was not all confident his best friend would be able to improve in his skills at that time. Maria would be getting married tomorrow with some slimy bastard and he hadn't even known of this till lately. All the contacts he had tried to make to her had failed. Charles had later told him that such was the case with him also. It seemed Cholet was afraid that they might influence his daughter to change her mind and this made Harry even worried. Harry had lately noticed a certain change in how Charles regarded Maria and he had known for a long time already that Maria nearly always put Charles first. How the two had went this far without realising it was a puzzle to him. And if all this wasn't enough, he was going to do something so incredibly stupid that it made all his earlier stunts seem like strokes of genius. He was going to yet again stand against Lord Ambrose d'Arcy and help Meg and Phillip elope. Harry had blamed himself of the stupid mistake that had caused his and Meg's engagement. Although Harry knew nothing of love he had seen it between Meg and Phillip and was going to do everything he could to help them. He just hoped that plan he and Phillip had come up with would not backfire. It would be put to action tomorrow, during the wedding. And so he waited, hoping the surprising phone call he had received would not mislead him.

Meg d'Arcy was now sure that her father had lost his marbles. He had seemed very withdrawal lately, but now he didn't speak much to anyone. His visits in palace of justice had become fewer, he only took cases now that really were worth him attending them. And he was furious of how Meg's grandmother Mme Giry had managed to break Meg and Harry's engagement. It had wounded d'Arcy's pride and he had taken his revenge by making Meg all but a prisoner. Wherever she went she felt eyes on her back. Ambrose had made it very clear that Phillip Carriere was not welcomed in his house. In fact he had done everything in his power to keep the two away from each others. That was his revenge. But Meg had inherited her grandmother's stubbornness and Ambrose was in for a nasty surprise if he thought he could lock her away. She had made a promise already to Phillip that they would elope the first change they got. Harry had promised to help them and he even said that he had gotten a surprising help. What this help exactly was he didn't say. However, Meg wasn't afford to get picky now. The first change they would get would be during the wedding of Maria and this Anatole Garron guy. Meg had no idea who this Anatole was and the fact how little she had managed to be in contact with Maria lately worried her. But now she couldn't do anything but wait and hope for the best.

Maria Cholet now knew what it was like to be a cage bird. Her own father had not let her leave the house in ages and said she could leave all she want once she was married. This was certainly not how she had thought her life would be. She had screamed and fought but to no use. Her father said that the future of their families wellbeing rested on her shoulders. She had become a means to earn money. It shouldn't have surprised her like this, she knew nothing was more precious to her father than money, but it did surprise her. Someone said that caging an animal kills its spirit. Whoever said that was right. She felt defeated. She would submit. Imprisonment would not end with the weddings. Somehow she knew Anatole would not have her had her ways. He would take pleasure in her pain. And her pain would be to be locked away. Where were all her friends? Where were Meg and Harry? Where was Charles? The fact how indifferent Charles seemed to be towards her situation hurt the most. As if he simply didn't care. But the necklace he had given…surely that must prove something, right? No, it would do no good to dwell in these useless thoughts. All she could do now was to wait tomorrow, the day that her life would end.

Anatole Garron was extremely happy man. And why not? He had every reason to be happy. He was living a wealthy life, far wealthier than any of his previous aliases had been. He had a powerful protector who thought just as he did. He was going to get married with a beautiful young woman and oh, how he would enjoy seeing her break under his will. For that was something he most loved. Destroying people, not physically, but mentally. Making them loose their fight and spirit. Watching them in despair where they can't escape. Making them loose their mind. The world had never been a kind place to him, he had learned as a child, so he was not kind to the world. He sat in the warm bathtub, sipping wine from his glass. The girl he would marry would not be the only one to be destroyed. A trap had already been set and couple of mice had walked in it. Soon he would have the pleasure of setting it off and watching them squealing in it. Anatole broke the wineglass in his hand, making a cut and small amount of blood running down his arm. He brought his head closer and licked his blood. To be truly wicked was his game. And so he waited for new wickedness to come.

Count Paradise sat in dark. He allowed it to surround him, to devour him, make him part of it. If someone were to walk in the room now they wouldn't see him. But he would see them. Oh, yes he would, with a sharpened sight he had, one of nature's gifts of stealing him the light of day, the warmness of sun and freshness of the wind on his face. His body was so tired. He could easily break a man's neck at the moment but inside he was tired. 18 long years he had slowly died in a bottom of dark hell. And the seven years following he had not allowed any moment of happiness for himself. He had simply put all his energy to this plan, this plan to make his enemies feel his pain and despair. To make them know what it's like to loose everything. And how ironic it was that he, who must wear mask, would accomplish this by ripping their invisible but more covering masks away? And now, after 25 years of long waiting, it was finally coming to an end. Buquet was gone already, but then again he had not been directly part of it. He was more of a bonus, an experiment for him to see how Anatole would react. Lad didn't disappoint him, Anatole would indeed play his part perfectly. Though he would certainly be upset with the change in the script. And so Count waited for his plans to unfold.

**To be continued…**


	33. Charles the Wedding Crasher

**Here, finally an update!**

**Okay, so I only got one review last time, but I guess with a chapter like that it was to be expected. Anyway, I hope you will all like this one. I certainly enjoyed writing it! See you next time!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 33 Charles the Wedding Crasher

Richard Firmin had never been one for weddings. Usually there was no need for him to attend to any. He had only recently started to become successful so receiving invitations had still not increased much and not many of his friends would get married in few years still. However, there was no way of him to crawl out of this one. He was close to the Cholet family, belonging to the same group of young famous people as Maria Cholet and having…"advised" her mother Carlotta in some legal matters.

Also, he felt uncomfortable in this particular wedding.

"What do you think of this for a title: 'a young girl's funeral'?"

Firmin saw that his journalist friend Gilles Andre had sat next to him. Andre looked for once decent in his suit. "This isn't a funeral, it's a wedding" Firmin said matter-of-factly.

"Little difference in this case. Maria is going throw away her free spirited life only to save her family from troubles. And it's not like they're ruined just because they have to pay for repairs and other things. It would just mean for them to live less expensively" Andre reasoned.

Firmin sighed. "For someone who has lived in wealth for so long, a mere idea is a nightmare. Especially knowing how freely Carlotta likes to spend money, I imagine Cholet must be really desperate to make sure it won't be gone from him".

"And so he's ready to sell his daughter away" Andre whistled. He truly didn't understand the so called upper-class.

"I see none of Maria's closer friends here. Seems like they have abandoned her as well" Firmin observed.

"Meg is grounded in her home, some kind of revenge of her father's I gather. Harry said he had something important to do and Charles I saw a moment ago outside trying to get in" Andre said, whishing he could smoke in church.

"Well that i- what? Is Charles outside?" Firmin asked, his head whipping to Andre's side.

"Was. He was trying to get in but wasn't allowed. Cholet says it's because of de Chagny's now scandalous name, but he really just doesn't want to let anyone get a chance of talking some sense to Maria" Andre said, sounding bored.

"So…even that boy won't be able to do a thing" Firmin muttered darkly.

"Well I wouldn't bet on it yet. I seem to remember forgetting to lock the backdoor when I came from a smoke" Andre said, ever so slight smirking forming to his lips.

Firmin looked at him in surprise and then was smirking also. "Gilles, you devil…"

"Well, I owed it to him, didn't I? After all it was my article that started the whole scandal with his father-"

"Quiet. The ceremony starts" Firmin interrupted.

The organ music started and everyone rose up. Anatole Garron was standing near the altar with the minister. Carlotta Cholet was sitting in the front line, seemingly moved by her daughter getting married. Alan Cholet had to bite his lips not to grin like an idiot when he led his daughter towards the altar. As Maria got nearer to the altar, she wondered if this how the condemned felt when they walked towards the gallons. She silently took her place beside Anatole, whose eyes seemed to undress her. Maria felt numb, like her body was an empty shell that didn't have any life in it. She didn't even notice what all the minister had already spoken.

"If there is anyone here who knows a reason why these two should not be married, let him now speak or forever held his pace" minister said.

The whole church was in silence. Maria felt like a part of her died. She truly was alone.

"I know a reason".

The whole church gasped as did Maria. _That voice! It's…_

"De Chagny!" Cholet shouted, outraged by how the young viscount had still managed to get in.

Charles de Chagny appeared from behind the pipe organ he had been hiding. He walked right there for everyone to see, in front of surprised Maria, furious Anatole and the confused minister.

"I'm sorry to appear like this, but Maria can not get married until I have apologised from her" Charles said with a confidence that indicated he had went these words through in his head several times.

Maria stared at Charles like he had dropped from an alien spaceship. _He came…I can't believe it…he came. _

"Apologise?" Anatole asked, giving one of those "if looks could kill" glares.

"Yes" Charles said and turned to look at Maria. "Maria, I am sorry for what an awful friend I have been. I have been only thinking of myself and not what goes on with your life. Please, Maria, allow me to make amends. If you love this man and want to spend your life with him tell me so now and I'll leave. But if not, if you're anything of the Maria I know of, Maria who paints what she feels like, Maria who doesn't take orders from anyone, Maria who thinks everyone should have rights to visit places that still have snow…then please don't do this. Come with me" he said and raised his hand towards her.

"Now look here!" Cholet shouted. "Security!"

"Please, Maria, what is it **you** want?" Charles asked.

Maria looked at the hand outstretched to her and the eyes that were looking at her. The intensity of them, the emotions showing in them, made her loose her breath. She had for so long now just seen the look of her father, mother and Anatole, who all said different than what their eyes showed. But Charles here, his eyes supported his words. He meant every word. And he had come.

Maria took a step forward and took Charles' hand. "What took you so long?" she asked him.

"Do not even think you can just walk out and leave!" Anatole shouted, visibly upset by this turn of events. He approached Maria but before he had time to react, Charles took a step closer and hit Anatole right to the face. Anatole was so surprised by this that he fell to his back to the floor.

"Maria, come" Charles said, taking Maria by the hand and starting walk away with her. Suddenly the doors of church opened and in came five officers, walking directly towards them.

"Finally! Arrest this wedding crasher!" Cholet shouted.

Charles and Maria became totally stiff as officers walked towards them…and then right pass them to Anatole, who had shakily stood up.

"Jerome Reyer" the officer said.

Anatole looked at them and his face lost all the colour of it. "What?"

"You're under arrested suspected of theft, false id's, robbery and murder of Joseph Buquet" the officer said.

Two other officers took hold of Anatole and put him in handcuffs. He was putting one hell of a struggle. "Let go of me! You can't do this! Not now! I was so close! You can not!" he shouted as he was dragged away.

"Shut up, you fake aristocrat!" the leading officer shouted.

"Fake aristocrat?" Cholet silently worded. His face was positively green and he seemed like he might burst into tears any given moment. He silently watched in disbelief as Anatole was dragged out of the church, and he could see how a great deal of money left with him. "I'm ruined" he whispered.

Nobody noticed when Charles and Maria had left, but they certainly were not in the church anymore.

Amongst the crowds of whispering and gossiping people, Andre stood up.

"Well, I need to hurry back to make an article then. You know, I suddenly feel very energetic to do it" he said, very brightly and happily, searching his smokes, before remembering he was still in a church.

Firmin too felt oddly good. This had certainly been one wedding he enjoyed. "After you've done working, shall we head for drinks? I feel like celebrating" he said.

"You treat" Andre grinned.

**To be continued…**

**So, please let me know what you thought. **


	34. Leaving

**Hallo my dear readers! As always I am thankful for all the great reviews. They keep me going. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 34 Leaving

"Winslow, are you breathing?"

"I can't believe I did that".

"Just calm down, everything went fine".

"I am going to be executed".

"I doubt it, there is no evidence pointing to you".

"I kidnapped 'Ambrose the Executioner's' daughter!"

"It's not a kidnapping, she came willingly. You did a favour to your friend by hacking into the security system of the house. You should be proud of yourself! Didn't you see her expression when she jumped in Phillip's arms? Looking so happy. Surely you must feel happy about it!"

Winslow Leach still had troubles of believing he had actually done what he had done. If it hadn't been for Meg he probably wouldn't have taken the risk. He had, being the expert of technology and all, hacked in the security system of d'Arcy mansion, shut down all the alarms and security cameras, and opened the door. D'Arcy had been away, in the wedding of the Cholet girl or in court house, who could say? Anyway, Meg and Mme. Giry had been all but prisoners inside the house for couple of weeks already, and had been more than glad to run away when the opportunity had come.

And now Winslow was in a car, driving away with Harry Hunter, the brains of this operation, and Mme. Giry who was silently sitting in the backseat. Phillip and Meg were coming in another car. They were on their way to the airport.

"Are you sure everything is arranged? We left in such a hurry that we couldn't take anything with us" Mme. Giry said, distress in her voice.

"Do not worry, Madame. I would not have taken such a risk if I didn't know what I was doing. It was bad enough I already once put Meg in troubles" Harry said.

"But why are you helping me too? I could have faced d'Arcy later, he can't do a thing to me. Also you shouldn't help me…" Giry said silently, not talking more because Winslow was present.

Harry was silent for a while. "If you're talking of my father, Madame, please do as I have done. Leave past behind and live for today" he said.

Not long after they arrived to the airport. As the group of five left the cars, they were greeted by a man who seemed to be 50-60 years old, had white hair and beard, and was rather over weighted. He was dressed in white suit and was cleaning sweat from his forehead. When he saw them approaching a huge smile appeared to his face and spoke loudly with a thick Hungarian accent.

"Young Mr. Carriere! It has been some time already!" he said.

Phillip shook the man's hand. "Mr. Korvin, I could hardly believe it when I heard you would help us" he said.

"Anything. We are friends, are we not?" the other man said.

Phillip turned to others. "This is Sandor Korvin, a banker from Hungary. He and my father did some businesses together. He saved my father from bankrupt" he told them.

"I only wish I could have done more for him. He died so soon after" Korvin said with his thick accent.

Mme Giry moved forward in her wheelchair. "Mr. Korvin, I knew Gerard Carriere as a good man. If you truly helped him then you are a good man also" she said.

"Thank you, Madame. But to the business, I heard that you were looking to get quickly away from Lord d'Arcy's jurisdiction area?" Korvin said.

"Yes, but it was you who contacted us. How did you know?" Harry said.

"I have made it my business what goes on in other places than Hungary alone" Korvin said. "All has been taken care of. Four seats have been preserved in a private flight to London, where I understand Mr. Carriere has friends to help you".

"Well yes but…four seats?" Phillip asked. The only ones leaving were him, Meg and Mme Giry.

"Well yes…I think the fourth one is coming there" Korvin said.

Everyone turned to look and saw Charles de Chagny and Maria Cholet coming. "Sorry we're late, the lady wanted to change clothes first" Charles said.

"Well I couldn't have travelled in a wedding dress" Maria said.

"It seems the new fashion is Paris is to steal young women" Winslow said.

"Maria, I was so worried when they said you would marry someone I had never heard about" Meg said, hugging the other woman.

"I had my chevalier to save me" Maria said, making Charles turn surprisingly red.

"Well, the sooner we get you in the plane the better" Korvin said.

"Are you sure you won't come also, Charles?" Maria asked, a slight plea in her voice.

"I have to take care of few things here, sort out my messed up family name" Charles said. "This isn't a goodbye for I certainly want to see you again, Maria" Charles said.

"So do I. Well goodbye then. And Charles…" Maria said, stopped and before had time to think it, kissed Charles to the lips. "…Thank you".

Hardly even ten minutes later a private plane sponsored by Sandor Korvin left to England, taking with it Maria Cholet, Phillip Carriere, Meg d'Arcy and Mme Giry. Winslow, Charles and Harry left the airport, Harry very curios of what that kiss had been about.

Sandor Korvin left a different way. He went to the parking lot and stepped in the backseat of a fine looking black car and sighed.

"This rubber mask is killing me" he sighed and tore the face of Sandor Korvin off.

"So where Count Paradise is a cruel and cold avenger, Sandor Korvin is a warm hearted nice old man who helps friends in need?" Nadir asked from the driver's seat.

"Does it make me look weaker?" Count asked from the shadows of the backseat.

"Not at all. It makes you all the more difficult to figure out" Nadir replied.

"So, what news of our dear manager?"

"Lajos reported to me that after the wedding Alan Cholet went straight to the bank and left with a big suitcase. He didn't even go to his home but went straight to the train station".

"Didn't even take his wife with him. Well, not that I can blame but still. Cholet's greed really knows no limits. The suitcase then must contain the last millions of his" Count mused.

"Isn't it foolish to walk with that much money?" Nadir asked.

"He is desperate man who has been put to the corner. He doesn't want to loose what is left of his millions so he doesn't trust them to anyone. Paranoia can be terrible sometimes. So, do we know where he is heading?"

"The train is going to Switzerland" Nadir said.

"The capital of banks, of course. Well, inform our associates to go greet him" Count said.

"Of course, my lord" Nadir said.

**Switzerland:**

Alan Cholet was holding the suitcase were close to his body, he didn't want to be unable to feel it. Everything had suddenly gone so wrong. Anatole was arrested. Maria had left. The dept collectors had attacked his opera account and emptied it. He only had his personal money left from his private account, where he had put sums without anyone noticing for the past 20 years or so already. He had 20 million euros in the suitcase. He could start over, he only needed to put them in an account of false identity and figure what to do next, where to invest and how much.

_I will survive. Even though it seems as if fates have been against me lately I will survive. In the end I always end up on the top. _

But hardly had he managed to get out of the train when someone hit him on his head from behind. Even when he started loosing his consciousness and darkness appeared to his vision, he kept holding on to suitcase.

**To be continued…**


	35. Restaurant

**Thank you for all the reviewers! You really make this easy for me. **

**Okay, this is a short chapter, so sorry for that. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 35 Restaurant

Little by little Alan Cholet started to come around. He slowly blinked his eyes, trying to adjust them to the dim light of his new surroundings. His head hurt liked hell and it took more effort than usual to get himself to a sitting position. Slowly he took in his surroundings. He was in a room that had one bed and nothing else. There was only one door and no windows.

On the floor Cholet noticed was one familiar suitcase. Feeling energy coming to him he moved towards it and opened it. All his 20 million euros were still inside. He sighed with relief.

Suddenly the door opened. Inside came a big man with black beard and unpleasant face. He smiled a smile that made Cholet want to run away. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Cholet. I am Javert, your waiter" the man said.

Cholet felt his insides turn cold. He had heard of Javert the Gipsy, a notorious criminal who mainly worked in New Budapest, but occasionally did work elsewhere also._ Hadn't is be him who kidnapped the de Chagny boy_, Cholet vaguely wondered. "My…my waiter?" Cholet asked.

Javert's unpleasant smile spread even more. "Of course. You can't possibly stay here for long without becoming thirsty and hungry. So whenever you need something, just knock this door and turn to me and I'll be at you service. Here is the menu" he said and handed a piece of paper to Cholet.

**Bread: 12 000 €**

**Soup: 17 000 €**

**Beef: 1 000 000 €**

**Potatoes: 12 000 000 €**

**Fish: 15 000 000 €**

**Water: 20 000 000 €**

**Wine: 20 000 000 €**

**The permission to use bathroom: 3 000 000 €**

Cholet stared at the paper. "You…you…I don't understand…is this some sort of a joke?"

"Joke? Not at all, Monsieur. Those are the humble prices of our restaurant. The manager has put them on" Javert said.

"I take it you're the manager" Cholet accused.

Javert raised his hands. "Not at all, sir. I am but a simple waiter. But if you want I can go and fetch the manager" he said.

"Well do that. I want to see the biggest the crook they have here!" Cholet shouted.

Javert gave a mocking bow and left. Cholet couldn't believe this farce. _If they want my money why didn't they just take it and be done with it?_

Not long after the door opened again. In came a tall man dressed in black and wearing a mask. "You wanted to see me, Cholet" he said.

Cholet stared in wonder. "Count Paradise?!"

"You have a wrong address, Cholet. I don't use that name here. Here I am but a simple manager who tries to come up with a restaurant" cold voice said from behind the mask.

"Count, I don't know what I've done to you but…"

"Again you use the name 'Count'. Why don't you use my real name? You do know it. But perhaps you have forgotten. Think back, Cholet. Think back 25 years ago, before the war, to the time when you first realised life meant nothing to you if it improved your own statues. You were an accountant of the Opera Populaire back then, working for Gerard Carriere. There was someone else who also worked there. A young, naïve singer and composer who had started to gain name. Uneducated man, who was about to become Carriere's successor. Do you remember now?"

_Cholet was fuming with anger. Had the old Carriere gone completely senile? He had been told confidentially that Carriere was going to make Claudin his partner, a co-manager. When the time would come that Carriere would retire Claudin would have the entire Opera Populaire for himself. Cholet just couldn't believe it. A manager of that young, naïve, foolish boy who just happened to have a good singing voice? By all rights the place should go to him, he had worked here longer than Claudin and had made a hell of a good work. _

_And there he went. The damnable Claudin, with a smug smile on his face, probably had another snog session with that Daae girl. Oh, how he hated the man. _

"_Erik, can I talk to you for a minute?" _

_Cholet hid himself from their sight as he witnessed Lefevre, one of the workers in the opera, approaching Claudin. _

"_What can I do for you, Lefevre?" Claudin asked. _

"_Please, don't ask me why but I need to get this letter for Madame Giry and I can't post it or give it to her personally. Would you be kind enough to give it to her when you can?" the older man asked. _

"_I guess I can but I am not going to meet here in a couple of days" Claudin said. _

"_That's alright, just give it to her when you can and give it to her personally. Make sure she gets it, please" there was something pleading in his voice._

"_Well, alright then" he said and took the letter. _

_Cholet talked Claudin was incredibly stupid. Even a fool could see there was something suspicious in that letter. Later Cholet heard that Lefevre had committed suicide on that very same day, just when he was about to get caught by police. Turned out he had been suspected of being involved with a terrorist group. When Cholet thought about this, it didn't surprise him at all. In the end Madame Giry had always seemed to know more than she would let on. _

_Cholet realised he was holding a precious information but how to use it for his benefit? It could be the answer of getting rid of Claudin, the police would be most interested to know of this letter. But how to inform them without that the tracks would lead back on him? If things would go wrong he didn't want to get in trouble. _

_The answer came in Café dell Opera, where they were having a celebration party. He saw there the dark look on viscount de Chagny's face who was looking at Claudin dancing with the Daae girl. Young viscount was jealous and wouldn't have anything against it either if Claudin would suddenly…disappear. _

"Erik…Claudin" Cholet said quietly, staring in amaze of the masked man.

"Yes, Cholet, finally we see each others as we really are" Count said.

"You…you were planning this…since the beginning…" Cholet muttered.

"For a clever man such as yourself it certainly took a long time to figure out" Count said and turned to leave.

"Wait…where are you going? Why are you doing this?" Cholet called.

"Well, as nice as this is, I can't afford to stay chatting with you all day. I have other things to attend to" he said casually.

"But…but Claudin don't…don't leave me here…you can't!" Cholet pleaded.

"I think I can and I will. I will make you loose the things you hold precious. There's nothing more dearly to you than money. Now you must decide between dying and giving your money away. The choice is yours" he said.

Cholet threw himself at Count's feet. "Claudin, please, you can't! It wasn't me who betrayed you! Honestly! It was just a drunken talk to de Chagny. He's the one behind it, blame him, not me!"

Count sighed. "You really are a pitiful man, Cholet. A rat who only cares for his own surviving. I do not have time for you anymore. I shall leave you to suffer like my mother did. Yes, my mother. She was a poor woman with a bad health. She depended on me. After I was taken she soon lost all her wealth and died. You shall do so also. But in which order is your own choice. Goodbye!"

Count pushed Cholet out of his way and left the room.

Javert appeared to the door. "Is the gentleman ready to order?" he asked. "No? Then call me when you are" he said, smiling that terrible smile of his and closing the door.

Cholet took the money out of his suitcase and hugged them as close to his chest as he could, and stayed there on the floor.

**To be continued… **


	36. Preparing the Trial

**Hallo all my readers!**

**Truthfully I think this chapter is full of crap but I'll let you do the judging. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 36 Preparing the Trial

Jerome Reyer, more popularly known as Anatole Garron, was not amused. He was sitting in a shitty little cell that was supposed to be his home till the trial, after which a real prison would become his home. He shuddered, he had already once been in a prison and going back didn't interest him. For years he had managed to avoid going back, carefully playing his roles. This Anatole Garron character had been a ball. Having riches and wealth and people grovelling before him, not to mention the women, had been so much fun. Not to mention he had had the chance to ruin the lives of those people he…

He had come so close. And now everything was going all wrong. Somehow the police had acquired photos of him poisoning Joe Buquet and evidences of his true identity. Jerome didn't need to be a genius to know who could have possibly arranged such evidences. The same man who had found him and offered him this role in the first place. Oh, Jerome knew he was nothing but a pawn in Count Paradise's great game, it takes one to know one after all, but how he could serve Count know was a mystery to him. He had not seen this change of plans coming.

Suddenly the cell door opened and he heard a guard speaking. "Ten minutes, no more. And if you need my assistance, just call me, Father Petrie".

In came a tall thin man, dressed in black robes of a priest. His face was old and there was no humour in them, they could have been made of stones. He had no hairs in his head.

"Which do you want to be called? Anatole Garron or Jerome Reyer?" the priest asked with a stern voice, that Jerome noticed had a British accent.

Jerome had never liked priests. "Whichever do you prefer, Father. Have you come here to pray for my soul? I'm not condemned yet, you know" he said lazily.

"According to the mass of evidence police have against you, you might as well be" Father Petrie said.

Jerome felt quickly irritated. "Say what you've come to say and leave!"

"I have come to bring you your salvation" priest said seriously.

Jerome burst out laughing. "You insane madman! Salvation is the last thing I get and I'm not interested in something your God could offer to me".

"This salvation comes straight from Paradise" Father Petrie said.

Jerome was about to shout when he stopped. _Salvation from Paradise? Is he really on about God or is this…could he be sent by the Count?_

"Go on" Jerome said hesitantly.

"The only way you can possibly avoid damnation is to follow the call of Paradise" priest said.

_Meaning I need to do as Count wants me to do_, Jerome thought. "Yes, yes, go on".

The priest took out some papers from his robes and handed them to Jerome. "You have three minutes time to memorise what is in those papers" he said.

Obediently Jerome took the papers and hurriedly eyed them through. His eyes winded and his mind was in shock of what he was reading. It took little time to absorb all the information given in there but when he was through there was a confident and wicked smile on his face.

"This…this is even better than I could have hoped for…I would have never…Count is a genius" Jerome murmured, delighted by the way things were turning.

"Do you now have everything you need?" the priest asked, his facial expression still same.

Jerome read the papers through one more time before handing them back. "Yes" he said with a grin on his face that was shouting PURE EVIL.

When the priest left Jerome was satisfied enough to whistle. _I should have known that this was merely another part of Count's plans. If they think they're going to just get rid of me I'm afraid it won't happen. This is only the end of act one! But my, Count certainly has planned a grand finale and in the end I'll be the one to receive roses and applauds! _

As Father Petrie walked farther and farther away his facial expression remained the same. However, inside of his head there was an evil chuckle. _Everything is going perfectly according to plans. Jerome, you have already exceeded all my expectations and I'm sure you will have fun with this one final task I have for you. As I'm sure I am going to enjoy watching it. Not as Father Petrie though, but as Count Paradise. _

**In the house of d'Arcy:**

Lord Ambrose d'Arcy was furious…

No, furious was not a word strong enough to describe the volcano like rage that was pouring out of him.

Meg and that old hag Giry had both left him. They had left, escaped, run away from him. From him! _Those ungrateful women! I have given them home, security and nice income and what do they do to me? One confesses a murder, the other causes a scandal! And now they ran away? What do they think life is; some romantic comedy movie? If they want to run like fugitives then I shall hunt them like fugitives. _

A soft knock came from the door. Richard Firmin stood there, looking like he would really want to be anywhere but there.

"Firmin, what is it?" d'Arcy asked darkly.

"Sir, I…I just came to bring the files for the trial tomorrow" Firmin said.

"Leave them to table and get out" d'Arcy said.

"Ah, yes sir!" Firmin quickly said and put the files he had been clutching tightly to the nearest table he could find.

He was just on his way out when d'Arcy's voice stopped him.

"Has the police find out anything new?"

"Um, about Garron?" Firmin asked, but as the words were coming out, he already knew his mistake.

"No, you dimwit! About my daughter!"

"N-No sir, I'm afraid all they know is that your daughter was seen with Mme. Giry and Phillip Carriere on airport and that they took a flight to London. However, no one knows what plane it was, who was the captain or how it was arranged" Firmin stammered.

"So…they're in England…" d'Arcy muttered.

Firmin gave hopeful glances to the door. "Sir?"

"Contact the police of London! Make them prepare a squad for my use when I come there tomorrow, after the trial. I want them to give me their full support while hunting down my daughter!" he ordered.

_Hunting down? The man is talking about his own daughter, for Christ sake! What is he going to do next? Send her in prison. Well I wouldn't put it past him… _Firmin thought.

"Well?" d'Arcy's voice snapped.

"Ah yes, of course! Right away, sir! Everything will be ready!" Firmin declared and then rushed out of the door.

For a moment d'Arcy didn't move. Then he went to the small table and picked up the files. Tomorrow he would have a case against Anatole Garron, the criminal who was standing accused of murder, false identity and numerous other things. The evidences against him are overwhelming. The trial would be a short one.

_And then my little daughter, _he thought darkly, _you're going to have a hell to pay!_

**To be continued…**


	37. The Trial

**Hello people!**

**Okay, I notice that reviews have been getting fewer again so big thanks to those who did review!!**

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 37 The Trial

The courtroom for the big case, prosecutor versus Anatole Garron, was as expected full. Jerome Reyer, Anatole, had fooled the entire crème of Paris, so naturally they wanted to be there to testify his downfall. And the way Lord Ambrose d'Arcy was speaking, no one doubted for a moment of the outcome.

"So this man…" d'Arcy declared loudly, pointing his finger towards Jerome who was sitting calmly at his table, alone. He had declined from the right to have an attorney and instead chose to defend himself.

D'Arcy continued. "Did I say a man? A rat, a viper, the very scum of Earth is more befitting description for this creature. Anatole Garron, Jerome Reyer and God only knows what else names he has used. Every time he commits crimes he disappears and comes up with a new identity. We are not dealing with a common criminal here, not with a simple thief or someone who accidentally committed man slaughter. We have undeniable evidence, that not only did he arrogantly appear under a false noble title and try to marry into one of the most known families here in Paris. We also know that he cold bloodedly murdered his old partner in crime; Joseph Buquet".

D'Arcy walked slowly so that everyone could see him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are certainly not talking about a criminal who might redeem himself. We are talking about a very devil himself, a man who despite being so young has already found guilty to some of the most hideous crimes imaginable, and he actually takes a pure pleasure from it. This is not a man who can be trusted ever again. There is only one sentence that can solve this problem once and for all: death!" he exclaimed.

The huge audience burst into a huge applauds, as if they had just seen the most memorable theatre play. Somewhere among them, Count Paradise was sitting quietly, watching the situation keenly from behind his mask.

The judge spoke. "Thank you, monsieur le prosecutor, that will be all" he said.

Satisfied, d'Arcy returned to his seat.

The judge turned to look at Jerome. "The accused has refused our offer to get him an attorney. Instead he has asked to represent himself".

A loud laughter was heard from the audience. D'Arcy kept a close eye to the accused.

"We shall proceed with standard questions then. Accused, your full name, please" judge said.

"Your Honour, I shall answer to that question to the last" Jerome said calmly, standing up for everyone to see.

Judge seemed to be motionless for a moment before speaking more. "Very well. What is your age?"

"I am 19 years old, I shall turn 20 next autumn. I was born the 14'Th of September, 2057" he said.

For a moment d'Arcy blinked, as if the date had some meaning to him, but then pushed it away.

The judge continued. "Where were you born?"

"In a villa just outside of Paris. It is currently owned by Count Paradise and it was there that I was introduced to Cholets" Jerome said.

Now d'Arcy's eyes winded and he seemed totally terrified. _No, no, no, no…don't tell me…this can not be!_

"What is your profession?" judge asked.

"What ever is most suitable to me at the time. I've been a thief, an extortionist, sometimes even an assassin" Jerome said lightly, like he was talking about a pudding recipe.

"All basic questions answered, except one. Will you now tell us your name, your TRUE name?" judge demanded.

"I do not know it, for I was never named. However, I do know my father's name" Jerome said, an unpleasant smile appearing to his face, his eyes locked with d'Arcy's who was visibly shaking now.

"Then tell us your father's name" judge said.

"My father is the chief prosecutor of the court of France. His name is Lord Ambrose d'Arcy" Jerome said.

A loud collection of gasps was heard from the audience. The judge was looking at him like he had growth an extra head to his shoulder.

"What did you say?!" judge demanded.

Jerome just smiled. "Well, let me tell you. During the year of 2058, right after the War had ended, Lord d'Arcy was using the said villa outside Paris, to be able to have an affair with an already married woman. To both of their terror, the woman became pregnant. D'Arcy and the woman both moved hiding to the villa under some hastily made excuses, so that the baby could be born in secrecy. The night the baby was born, the night of my birth, d'Arcy took the baby and buried it alive in the garden!"

D'Arcy stood up from his chair, but his face was pale, his hands shaking and he couldn't make any sound.

"This burial was witnessed by a certain lowlife criminal who thought d'Arcy was burying a fortune. When he dig the baby up, he discovered me still living and took me to an orphanage. At the age of 12 I left the orphanage and began my colourful career that has now brought me here before you all" Jerome continued.

"STOP IT!"

Everyone's head turned to the audience where the shriek had come from. They saw Carlotta Cholet there standing, her face white as a sheet and her legs trembling.

"Please" she pleaded "don't say anymore. Please don't go on".

Jerome smiled. "Let me introduce you all my mother; Madame Carlotta Cholet!" he declared, causing a whole new collection of gasps.

Carlotta had tears running down her face as she looked Jerome. "My baby…my child…" she whispered.

Jerome looked at her for a moment and then the cruelest smile appeared to his face. Carlotta lost what little colour was left to her face as a memory of a certain night in her room appeared.

"I…I didn't…no…I didn't know…I didn't…" she kept repeating, pure horror in her voice.

Jerome turned away from her and pointed a stag of files on his table.

"Here are all the proofs I need to give to you. Testimony of the doctor who was summoned to help in the birth, certifications, DNA- test results, anything you care to think of and so on" Jerome said, handing the files away.

Ambrose d'Arcy's whole body was shaking now. He started walking toward Jerome, walking closer and closer until he was standing right before him. Cold sweat was running down his face as he watched the younger man in terror.

"Lord d'Arcy? What do you have to say about this?" Judge asked.

For a moment d'Arcy just stood there and then suddenly, like a lightening had struck him, he started running towards the doors. However, he wasn't as lucky as Raoul de Chagny, for judge gave a quick command and two guards had Ambrose down in a second.

Judge spoke with a commanding voice. "This case shall be put on hold for a now, as we shall examine these new evidences thoroughly. Lord Ambrose, until evidences have been examined, you shall be held under supervision. This court will quit for today. Take them away!"

Ambrose d'Arcy was behaving like a wild animal, jumping and kicking, screaming to the guards to let him go this second. Jerome on the other hand didn't object of being taken away. He had a very self-satisfied smile on his face.

The audience was talking and gossiping loudly. Carlotta Cholet stared blankly to the place where Jerome and d'Arcy had been just a moment ago. Her husband had disappeared with the moneys, her daughter had ran away without telling where and now this. She had been abounded, left alone in her misery and her shame.

Carlotta's knees gave in and her eyes rolled back in her head. She fell to the floor.

In the midst of confusion and uproars, Count Paradise slipped out of the courtroom. This had been very satisfying indeed. But there was still one little thing to do…

**To be continued…**


	38. Dog of the Law

**Thank you, Irena, for reviewing. Wouldn't mind hearing from other people also. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 38 Dog of the Law

Lord Ambrose d'Arcy slowly came aware of his senses.

He looked around him as well as he could. He was currently lying in a hospital bed, under sedation. The room was empty but he was sure there were at least two guards outside the door and the window was sealed shut. Officially he was not a prisoner but they made sure he would not do anything stupid. After Cholet had left with the moneys and de Chagny disappeared the law enforcements had got critique of not doing their jobs properly. There was no way in hell they would allow him a chances out of here. He knew all this for he had worked in the law for so many years already. He knew the how things would proceed from now on. He just had always been on the other end of the system.

If the sedation wouldn't keep him calm d'Arcy would be shouting and raging again.

Suddenly d'Arcy was aware that the door of the room had opened and someone was walking closer to him. That someone was tall, dressed in black and wore a mask.

"Good evening, Lord d'Arcy" Count Paradise said, his deep voice muffled slightly by his mask.

"You…how did you get in?" d'Arcy asked, his voice quiet.

"The guards were surprisingly easy to bribe. Then again with prosecutors like you around, I shouldn't be surprised that other people are as easily corrupted" Count mused.

Count's presence made d'Arcy realise something. "It was you…You bought that villa and invited us there. You told all of us that story…and you introduced Reyer there. You've known all along…you planned this, didn't you? Murder of Buquet, disgrace of Cholet's wedding, my downfall…"

Count stayed quiet, his cold eyes staring d'Arcy.

"Who…who are you?" d'Arcy asked as boldly as he could, but his voice was trembling slightly.

"Since you've managed to calculate it all this far, please continue. You were once a police inspector as well, you should know how to use your brains. All is true you said. I planned Buquet's death, the ruined wedding, your downfall. And I also planned the disgrace of de Chagny by revealing his past sins, just like I did yours. So now that you have all these evidences, who am I? Who is this person who would so much hate you, de Chagny, Cholet and Buquet?" Count asked, his voice quiet and terrifying.

D'Arcy was sweating now, yet he felt cold from inside. "You…you are…"

"A young man who was brought to you 25 years ago then. A young man who was at the time carrying a letter" Count said.

Cholet gasped.

"_So, you are Erik Claudin?" Chief-Inspector Ambrose d'Arcy asked from the young black haired man sitting in a chair in front of his desk. _

"_Yes, sir" Claudin answered. _

"_Are you aware why you have been brought here?" d'Arcy asked. When Claudin shook his head for denial he continued. "We received an anonymous letter that has some disturbing information about you. It says here that you're a part of a terrorist group determined to bring our government down". _

_Claudin's eyes winded. "Sir, I assure you, I have no knowledge whatsoever about any terrorist group. I am just a singer and a composer. Music is my life, not terrorism. I like keeping my life simple and peaceful. Just now before you brought me here I was merely having a small dinner with my fiancée and my mother" he told. _

_D'Arcy observed the young man. He was young and obviously little naïve. Even an idiot could see that he was as innocent as he claimed to be. These anonymous letters these days truly tested his patience. Yet…_

"_Nevertheless we have to be certain. Did you by any chance knew the late Robert Lefevre who worked in the opera house?" d'Arcy asked. _

"_I spoke to him a couple of times but never really knew him. I was shocked of course to hear about his suicide" Claudin said._

"_We have evidences that link Lefevre to one of these terrorist groups. This letter we got about you clearly says that not only did you spoke to Lefevre only hours before his death, but you also received a letter from him" d'Arcy said. _

_Claudin swallowed. "It is true, sir. He did indeed give me a letter that I was supposed to give one of our opera workers next time I'd go there. But I wasn't planning on going back to opera till next Monday so I still have the letter with me" he said and pulled a small envelope out of his coat pocket. _

_D'Arcy took the envelope and stared the name written there. _

_**To Madame Giry**__._

_His own mother-in-law! He had always been suspicious about the woman but never thought she would go this far. Quickly he opened the letter and read it. _

_**Dear Mme. Giry,**_

_**By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am aware that the secret police is on to me and will probably very soon make their move. I am too much of a coward to face execution or life in a concentrations camp. Therefore I shall take my own life. Before I say goodbye to this world however, I am trying to give this message to you. There is a spy amongst our groups. He is a policeman named Michael Hunter, but he goes by the alias of Michael Hartnett. **_

_**I pray this message will reach you in time. **_

_**-Lefevre**_

_D'Arcy took several deep breaths to calm himself. His own mother-in-law was not only deeply in this but also in a commanding position. If this would ever be revealed his whole career would be over. But thankfully nothing had yet been revealed. Hunter, their spy, would keep his mouth shut as would everyone in his team. They were loyal to him. _

_So the only problem was the young man in front of him. A body would cause too many questions. It would be better if he would just disappear. _

"_Well, it is obvious you're innocent, Monsieur Claudin. If you'll just wait a moment here, I'll clear this up" d'Arcy said, smiling to the young man. _

_Relief was written all over Claudin's face. "Oh, thank you!" he said. _

_D'Arcy left the room and gave an order to send Claudin to the Devil's Fortress. _

"Erik Claudin! Is that really you?" d'Arcy asked, his voice shaking.

"That man died years ago then in the Devil's Fortress and was reborn as Count Paradise. I am his phantom, the last left of him and his endless hate and bitterness. I vowed myself I would have my revenge. And now you, Ambrose d'Arcy, pitiful dog of the law, will be trialled, judged and sentenced. You will spend the rest of your life in prison. Till the day you die, may this face haunt you in your dreams" Count said and removed his mask.

D'Arcy screamed when he saw the ruined face of Erik Claudin.

**Later:**

Count Paradise sat in the back seat of his car. He chuckled. "Now we're done with him. Buquet, Cholet and d'Arcy down. Has there been anything new of the de Chagny?"

"No, my lord, he has managed to hide himself. Yet we are sure he is still in France" Nadir said from the driver's seat.

"It doesn't really matter anymore. He is ruined for good. I would have just wanted to see him captured also before it's too late" Count said.

"I see. My lord, we also received a word from the hospital. Carlotta Cholet has been put on treatment. It seems she has suffered a mental breakdown and is not responding on anything. Doctor's are doing their best but they don't think there is much left of her to save" Nadir said.

Count was quiet for a moment before he spoke quietly. "Nadir, why are you telling me this?" he said and his voice sounding hissing, as if he was speaking through his teeth.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I thought your would want to know" Nadir said simply.

Count didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He only knew that his moment of triumph was gone and it was replaced by some horrible, twisting feeling from deep inside of him.

Guilt.

**To be continued…**

**If you made it down here, you might as well review. **


	39. Everything, Count

**Hallo, dear readers! Thank you for the few reviews I got. Better few than nothing. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 39 Everything, Count

One week had passed.

Today was supposed to be the day the matters would be forever settled between Charles de Chagny and the man who claimed to be Count Paradise. The two of them would meet each others in the ruins of old Notre Dame and the duel would be held, either with swords or guns. It would be a duel till either one was dead.

Christine de Chagny knew all this. She had left the de Chagny manor to escape the media and settled in a tiny apartment she had had for years if she needed to escape the world for a while. Ironically it was the same tiny apartment where Madeline Claudin had lived many years ago then. She hadn't had the heart to give it away. After Madeline had died she had bought it and kept for herself. Raoul didn't know about it, or he didn't care.

The calmness this apartment had always brought to her didn't help this time. She was either sitting in a chair nervously or trying very hard to find something to do. Charles had made her promise not to interfere in their duel and just wait. Just wait. Never before had just waiting been this hard for her. The two men who, aside from her late father and Raoul, had played the most important roles in her life were going to meet in a duel. One would not survive. Count had promised to her that her son would live but what if he was so consumed by his revenge that it was just a lie?

In the end she didn't know which outcome she feared the most.

Her cell phone suddenly rang and scared the living daylights out of her. She took the phone and for a moment just stared the number it was showing. She knew the number and hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Raoul?"

"Christine, I came to the manor but I can't find you anywhere. Where are you?" asked the familiar voice of Count Raoul de Chagny.

_If Raoul hasn't figured out I'm here than he probably doesn't know about this place, _Christine thought. "Raoul, where have you been? No one has seen or heard you since the trial".

"I'm sorry, Christine. I had to disappear so that I could plan things correctly. If people had been constantly bothering me I couldn't have done this. But don't worry, Christine. Everything will be alright now. I have it all figured out. I just need you and Charles to come to manor and we can continue from here then. We'll move away to a place where no one knows us. I have enough money to ensure our living style. This will all be very over soon" her husband said from the other line.

"It's true then, isn't it? What the princess of Mazandera said about you" Christine stated.

For a moment there was silence on the line. "Yes. Yes, it's true. I did it. I am guilty. If there is hell, I'll go there. But that does not change our situation here, Christine. All that I've done has always, always been for the good of our family. Just like I'm doing now. So just tell me where you are and my driver will get you" Raoul answered as calmly as he could.

"Erik is back, Raoul" Christine said, though she didn't know why.

"I-…what? What did you say?"

"My former fiancé and co-worker, Erik Claudin, is back in Paris, Raoul. He is the Count Paradise".

For a long time there was nothing but silence on the line. It continued for so long that Christine wondered if Raoul had left the line. When he did spoke again he sounded out of breath, like he couldn't breathe properly.

"He…he came back…came back to have his revenge then".

Christine felt like the final nail had been nailed to her coffin. "It's true also, isn't it? You framed him!" she said, tears falling from her eyes.

"As I said, everything I've done has always been for you, Christine. For you and for Charles. He had you all those years ago in his leach. You never even saw me. As long as he was there you never saw how much it pained me, how much it tormented me to see you giving that beautiful special smile to him. Only to him! So what did I do? I wrote a letter. Simple as that. One letter and he was gone. And think what all I've done for you afterwards. Tell me one thing you've lacked in your life, something I was not willing to give to you!" Raoul shouted on the other line, his voice filled with different emotions.

Christine took a calming breath. "I was happy with you, Raoul. Our marriage was not unhappy one. But we can never go back. I can no more go back to those days of ignorance with you than I can go back to the days of my youth with Erik" she said.

"Christine, please…just tell me where you are. Let me speak to my son" Raoul pleaded.

"Charles is not here, Raoul. He is currently at the ruins of Notre Dame. He is meeting Erik there. They are going to have a duel to the death" Christine said.

Though she could not swear to it, Christine was sure to have heard Raoul gasping.

"He will NOT take me my son!!" Raoul shouted and the line went dead.

Christine closed her phone. A certain part in her life had just ended. What tomorrow would bring with it she didn't know. She could only wait.

**At the ruins of Notre Dame:**

The first rays of sun pierced through the dark sky of Paris, giving it that unique red glove. A black car drove to the ruins of once so magnificent cathedral of Notre Dame. Count Paradise stepped out, followed by Nadir, Lajos, Sasha and Ayesha. For a moment the tall masked man simply looked the ruins.

"This place was still standing when I last lived here. They bombed during the World War III. I missed the whole war during my captivity. From what I've heard enemy forces managed to make just one bombing attack in Paris and they destroyed Notre Dame. It was more than a building; it was a work of art, a piece of history. It had seen many centuries and important peoples. Emperor Napoleon crowned himself here. And now…it's a sightsee for tourists" he ended bitterly.

Nadir approached him. "Milord, why did we bring both guns and swords? I thought the choice of weapons had already been made" he said.

"I thought I'd give Charles one last chance of choosing something else. It doesn't matter in the end. The result will be the same. My last will and testament can be found in the safety of my room. Everything will be left to you four" Count said calmly.

Nadir's eyes winded as he looked at the masked man. "Milord, you…you will not win?" he asked in disbelief.

"No!" Ayesha shouted and the young girl ran to the Count. "You can not die! You mustn't die! You're the only person I wish to have in my life. If you die what life would I have anymore?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

Ayesha's body stiffened when Count suddenly pulled her in an embrace and removed his mask just a bit to place a small kiss to her forehead. "My beautiful girl. Forgive me for not ever seeing you as a real person. For years you have been just a tool for me to use. I'm sorry. If I wasn't so determined to just reach this one goal maybe…but it doesn't matter anymore. My time is out. Besides, if not today then when? Next month? After two months? My body is getting weaker and weaker. I don't have much time anymore. This is the only way to end things properly" he said quietly, his voice having a strange soothing calmness in it.

"No, milord…" Ayesha cried to his chest.

"Live, Ayesha, for both of us now" he said and then gently pushed the younger woman away.

Another car arrived. Charles de Chagny and Harry Hunter stepped out of it. As customs demand it, Harry and Nadir approached each others.

"My lord has given viscount de Chagny another chance to choose the weapons. Which will it be? Guns or swords?" the dark skinned man asked.

Harry looked somewhat uncertain and turned to look Charles who nodded his head. He then turned back to Nadir. "Before the actual event, Charles would like to speak privately with Count Paradise" Harry said.

"Rules of the duel are very clear. Only the weapons do the talking now" Nadir said.

Charles took a step forward and raised his voice. "Count! My mother told me many things about you. About the two of you. And my father. Please, can we talk?" the young man asked.

For a moment Count was still and then nodded. The two went walking alone to the ruins of once grand cathedral, while Nadir, Ayesha, Harry, Lajos and Sasha stayed to the cars.

"So, what do you want to know, Charles?" Count asked as the two of them walked.

"Everything, Count. About you, your past, my parents and why you are doing this. Everything".

**To be continued…**

**Next time Count will FINALLY tell what happened to him during those 25 years he was missing. So if you've read this fic all the way to here, I advice you NOT to stop now. **

**Reviews, please. **


	40. Count's Tale

**Hallo! Thanks for everyone who reviewed, they made me so happy!**

**For a long time it bothered me how to write this chapter and then I decided to use the same style I had used already in a previous POTO fic of mine called "In the Dark". I hope this doesn't bother you. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 40 Count's Tale

Everything, Charles? Well, you aren't asking much, are you? But I do think you deserve to know the truth. Very well then.

25 years ago then, I was not the Count Paradise you know. I was not a masked man surrounded by mysteries and scandals. Then I was Erik Claudin, a young man who loved two things. One was opera. My mother Madeline had become a widow a mere months before my birth and raised me alone. Till the age of 12, everything I knew I had learned from her and she made certain I mastered the most common languages in the world. She also quickly noticed that my voice seemed to have developed before me and that I had a certain ear for sounds. She introduced me to an old friend of hers, Monsieur Gerard Carriere, who managed the Opera Populaire then.

Yes, Charles, that was Phillip's father. And he was like a father to me also. Only two men in my life have I ever thought as possible father figures. Monsieur Carriere was the first one. He quickly took me to the boy chorus and very soon started to give me minor roles on the stage. Whenever they played something that required a young boy actor they chose me. Opera very soon became my passion, my other home. At the age of 15 I played my first leading role as Mephistopheles in **Faust**. Mephistopheles at the age of 15! After that my influence in the opera house grew. I started to share some of my ideas with set and costume designers and even some members of the orchestra. I never took credit for those ideas but Monsieur Carriere somehow knew it was my handiwork. In time I even started to compose my very own opera: **Don Juan Triumphant**.

I told you opera was my other love. The other was your mother. When I first met her she was not Countess de Chagny, she was Christine Daae, daughter of a Swedish violinist Charles Daae, a friend of Monsieur Carriere's. She had been singing in chorus outside Paris and Monsieur Carriere told me to tutor her. At the time I didn't much care for the job. I was 17, a young man who had realised that a great future was ahead of him in the opera. She was couple years younger than me so I didn't first see her as anything but a little girl. I guess since I had started in chorus also and that I respected Monsieur Carriere so much that I finally started tutoring her.

At first I considered it only a job to be done as soon as possible. Quickly though I came to realise the possibilities her voice held. For someone who loved music so much as I, her voice was like a diamond, waiting to be polished. We started to spend more time together, not only tutoring but also talking to each others. Firs it was only about music, the one thing that connected us. Then we talked about anything and everything. As time went by I realised how much I enjoyed her company and how much I thought about her, I didn't even have time for my opera anymore. When tutoring came to an end I was afraid it would also end everything between us. In panic I told her how I felt and, like most young men trying to make their feelings known, I made an ass of myself. However, she only laughed kindly and returned my feelings. To this day I have no idea if Monsieur Carriere had meant to play a matchmaker or not.

You could say that I couldn't have been happier and, in truth, I never was again. The troubled times had come. In a couple of years the signs of the coming war started to appear. There was political restlessness in the air. World was one big bomb, waiting to explode. However, none of this touched me. I was 20 years old in 2052, engaged to your mother and Monsieur Carriere had hinted to me that I might start to have a lot more responsible jobs ahead of me. As happy as I was, I was also very naïve not to noticed the enemies around me. Because when someone is happy, someone else is not. And let them beware him.

Alan Cholet was working as an accountant in the Opera Populaire back then. He couldn't stand it that he would be taking orders from me. He wanted the place that was promised to me. Your father, who was viscount back then, also was a familiar face in the opera, since de Chagny family financed many of our productions. You probably know that Raoul and Christine had been childhood friends. I am not going to ponder if your father loved your mother or if it was just a jealousy in him, it doesn't matter anymore. The fact is he wanted your mother, oh he did very much and therefore I was a devil himself in his eyes.

Just one naïve action of mine opened the possibility for them to get rid of me. Cholet, with a help of Joseph Buquet who held a grudge against me, came up with a plan to inform the police that I might have connections to a certain group that was secretly working in the opera house. I was arrested and taken to meet an inspector in charge of investigation: Ambrose d'Arcy. I was innocent but because I had involuntarily become possessing information that might have compromised his career, he had me sentenced without a trial. Before I knew it I had lost everything and was shackled in a train, taking prisoners to the Devil's Fortress.

The Devil's Fortress truly deserves its name. It's a concentration camp on the Coast of Arctic Sea. It is where the United Europe sends its most unwanted prisoners. It is also where the big companies used to dump the toxic wastes they didn't want to be found. The prisoners of the fortress were forced to work on poor conditions with dangerous pollutions and chemicals all around us. Mutations and the danger of burning to death were every day life there. First I tried to beg them to listen to me, to understand I was innocent, but my pleas fell to deaf ears. There was no such thing as justice there. Surviving from one day to another was the only life known there.

At first I believed that people would come and take me away from there. Surely it was just a misunderstanding, I said to myself. But when weeks turned to months and months turned to years, I had to admit to myself that I was on my own. No one would come and get me out of there. And as I went through all the memories I had to find out why this had happened to me, I saw the faces of de Chagny, Cholet and Buquet. I knew, even when it at first was hard to admit, that they had framed me. Later I also discovered d'Arcy's motives and added him to my list of enemies. The feelings of betrayal, loneliness and sadness formed inside of me to a rage I had never before known. It was that rage that kept me alive, from one year to a next. It was that rage that made me find a fighter in myself, when other inmates started to get a little bit too…friendly. I refused to give up, refused to die. Because I dreamed that someday I would get to meet my enemies face to face…with my hands on their throats.

Life expectancy in the Devil's Fortress is usually around 5-7 years. Those who have been there 12 have become legends amongst the inmates. The fact that I survived there after 18 years is a miracle. Like is also the fact that my eyes were no damaged when I got polluted waste to my face. I had been there 10 years then. My face became horrible to look at. I was moved to below ground where the handicapped inmates stayed. I was still able to work but I wasn't pleasant sight to others. Therefore I was put in the same cell as an Italian man who had lost his sight because of the same toxic wastes.

His name was Giovanni. He had worked as an architect in Rome and was a chemist of a sort, an honest man with a daughter whom he worshipped. When things had gone really bad because of the war, Giovanni tried to ensure a good life to his daughter. He used his knowledge of architect and chemist to rob banks. Yes, for the sake of his daughter an honest man became a bank robber. And he did rather well. Stole nearly 200 million euros. Because of the war the police were slow in catching him. But they did eventually and interrogated him for months to find out were the loot was. However, he didn't break, wanting his daughter to have it all. Unfortunately they interrogated his daughter also and were not that careful. She died and he lied to them that the money had been destroyed in a building fire. There was no one to claim otherwise, so Giovanni was send to the fortress.

During the eight years he and I spend together as cell mates, he taught me many things. About architecture, chemistry, literature, philosophy. Even the world of finances and how they worked. In the secret I used the chemicals that were lying around to build a bomb that would help me to escape, with his instructions. He became my mentor and, most importantly, my friend. It was good to have a friend there, made life more bearable.

But after eight years he died. The old body just couldn't take it anymore. And when he was gone there was nothing left for me. Suddenly I was alone again and I refused to stay for a moment longer. I used the amateur bomb that I had build and blew a hole in the wall. I was rather surprise myself when it worked so well. However, then came the real problem. How to survive from there? I was in a foreign land to me, with no vehicles or even plenty of clothes. It was cold and dark and sooner or later guards would also be after me. But I refused to be taken back. I would rather die than be caught. At least I would die outside.

But luck was with me, proving that God wanted me as the instrument of his vengeance. I ran into a group of bandits on the area. Giving me to guards would not have benefited them, so they could only either kill me or take me in the gang. Thankfully the eight years spend underground had made my senses sharp in dark and I proved to be most useful for them. Their leader, Javert, welcomed me in the gang.

Why so surprised, Charles?

I didn't spend long in their gang but when I left I didn't leave alone. Nadir left with me. He felt he owned it to me since I had used Giovanni's teaching to save the life of Nadir's son. He is living in Spain now. Nadir has been seeing him whenever possible, but he swore to help me on my task. At first we went to Rome. Giovanni had with his last strength revealed to me the hideout of the money he stole. It was in a secret room in one of the buildings he had planned. To my luck the building was still standing and the secret room had stayed secret. All the money was there, all 200 million euros.

Not long after Lajos joined my gang. Together we started to dig up the pasts of de Chagny, Cholet and d'Arcy. Buquet had not had any kind of success in his life but I kept an eye on him also. I had long since come to conclusion that a simple death is too good for my enemies. Death is the end of all pain. I wanted their pain, suffering and desperation. Their endless desperation. So I chose to destroy them publicly, take away all that they had. And like I suspected, none of them had stayed clean during the past 20 years. I found out about d'Arcy's child, about Ayesha and what really happened in Mazandera. Cholet I decided to destroy with my own opera. It just seemed fitting.

I created the Count Paradise so that I would be welcomed with open arms. A man with mystery around him and money to burn is something everyone is interested in. And you have to admit everything has worked perfectly. My enemies are defeated, their reputations ruined, their honour gone.

You wanted to know everything, Charles. Now you do.

**To be continued…**


	41. Forgive

**Ah, finally I got to update. It's been a busy week. But look at this, this story is nearing it's end. Hope I still have all of your interest with me. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 41 Forgive

By the time Count Paradise had finished his explanation the sun had raised. Although it was still very early, the sky already had its familiar blue colour again. Count sat on a rock that had once probably been one of Notre Dame's pillar parts. He watched silently as Charles de Chagny walked back and forth with his eyes cast down. The Count waited patiently until the younger man finally talked.

"Count…I can understand where this…hate is coming now. I have no excuses to give to my father or to the other men. But you have no excuses either of what you did to other people" Charles said.

Count stiffed. "Other people?"

"Yes, Count. Did you ever think about how Maria felt when you encouraged that Garron or whatever his name is to marry her? Or have you thought how this all has effected her mother, Madame Carlotta, who is currently in a hospital, suffering from a serious mental breakdown. Did you have some reason to hurt them too? Did either of them play a part in what happened to you?"

Count shook his masked head. "I didn't think what effect my actions would have on other people. Revenge was the only thing I cared for" he said.

"Yea, I understand. I also understand that you didn't care for my mother" Charles said.

Count's head shot up and his eyes stared right into Charles. But before he had time to say anything the young viscount spoke.

"You didn't care how my mother felt when you so suddenly appeared back to her life. You didn't think of her feelings when you so openly destroyed our family. Who gave you the right to act God? What right did you have to do that to woman you claim to have loved?" Charles challenged. "It makes you no better than the men you wanted to make pay".

For a man who had lived years without feeling quilt, the sudden reawakening of a conscience is a hell of a feeling. Count felt himself suddenly very helpless and powerless. It was as if all the years of his suffering, all the time he had spent planning, all the money he had used to make things perfect, had been laid out in front of him and now he realised that it had been all for nothing. Where was the satisfaction he should be feeling? Where was the compensation for all those years of pain he had endured?

Or had he just wasted whatever chances he had to still be happy?

"My mother once taught me that hating someone only kills your soul. Living in hate is the same as if not living at all. You just pretend to live" Charles said.

Whatever was left of Erik Claudin inside the Count was moved by these words. He had heard them before from his own mother, who had told them to both him and Christine. _How could I have forgotten…?_

"Then…what could I possibly do anymore?" Count asked.

Charles turned to watch him. "Ever heard of forgiveness, Count?"

Count blinked behind his mask. "Forgiveness?"

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life hating, Count? Try to forgive. If not for your sake then for the sake of those who didn't deserve to feel your wrath" Charles said.

Count was dumbfounded. He didn't expect to live past this day. "But our duel…"

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "I forgive you, Count" he said.

"But I won't!"

Both men turned to look how a figure appeared from behind the ruins. A man with short blonde hair and blue eyes appeared. Count Raoul de Chagny showed signs that he hadn't slept well in a while but a pure determination shone on his face.

"Father…?" Charles asked in disbelief. He hadn't seen or heard of his father since Ayesha's revelations and certainly hadn't expected to meet him here.

"I heard everything", Raoul said through his teeth "you're going to forgive this man for what he did to us, son?"

Charles kept his calm though he was troubled. "Father, the blame goes as much to you as it does to him".

For a moment Raoul seemed to have been hurt by these words but he quickly turned his head to the masked man. "Erik Claudin…it really is you. I really shouldn't be surprised. When something seems to have gone wrong in my life you're always been there, silently laughing to me" he said.

Count stood up. "I knew you had feelings for Christine 25 years ago then, de Chagny, but I never laughed at you. I always hoped you could accept the truth because Christine always held you as a dear friend" he said coldly.

"And if our parts would have been reversed, would you have silently accepted to be just her friend?!" Raoul demanded.

Count didn't answer.

Raoul smirked. "I didn't think so. Erik Claudin, you cursed ghost. I should have killed you myself 25 years ago then. As a vengeful angel surely you won't deny me my revenge, Claudin? Will you duel with me?"

"Father-!" Charles started but Count beat him.

"This is between your father and me, Charles. Neither of us could back down in front of an enemy" he said.

"True. But can you fight me so openly, Claudin, or do you only attack in dark?" Raoul said.

Count called Nadir, Lajos, Sasha, Ayesha and Harry Hunter to the scene. Nadir and Lajos were ready to attack when they saw Raoul but Count ordered them back and told them to give them swords instead of guns.

A moment later Raoul de Chagny and Count Paradise were positioned, ready to battle.

"You planned my downfall perfectly, Claudin. But you won't live to enjoy it" Raoul said.

"I was ready to die when I came here. The question is if you are ready?" masked man encountered.

Without further hesitation the two men attacked each others, their swords dancing between them. Both of them showed great talent: Raoul had his years spend in the army, Count had learned to fight in the tutor of best mentors money could have. The two men attacked each others furiously, countered, retreated and attacked again. It almost seemed like neither managed to get the hold over the other.

But finally Raoul's hotheadedness lost against Count's coolness. With a twist of his arm Count released Raoul from his weapon and held his blade against Raoul's throat.

Raoul swallowed. "Well, go on, Claudin. Take your revenge. Here and now!" he shouted.

For a moment it seemed Count would do it. Pure murder was shining from his eyes. But then he suddenly retreat his sword.

"No, de Chagny. It's over between us. Your son said some very meaningful things to me earlier. I had for earlier thought you didn't deserve a son like Charles, but now I realise I wouldn't deserve him either. He is far better man than either of us. I may not be able to forgive, but I can stop myself. You're finished, Raoul de Chagny" Count said, his voice low and powerful at the same time.

As Count started walking away, towards Charles and Ayesha who both had a looks of relief on their faces, Raoul pulled a small gun out of his sleeve. It was very small but useful and even Count hadn't notice it in his sleeve while they fought. He pulled it to his hand and aimed Count.

"Count! Get down!" Nadir shouted as both he and Lajos started running towards Raoul.

Raoul pulled the trigger. A gunshot was heard.

Count Paradise had just enough time to turn around and see that someone jumped in front of him who received the bullet.

"CHARLES!"

Charles fell to the ground, wounded.

Raoul's eyes winded as he watched his son. _Charles…no, this can not be…not my son…the son that I've always been proud of…this can not be…forgive me…forgive…_

The masked count dropped besides Charles and examined him quickly. _Thank God, the bullet went through his shoulder. It's nothing serious. Thank God. _

Another shot was heard. Count Paradise raised his head and saw another man falling ground dead. Thinking he had killed his own son, Count Raoul de Chagny had turned his gun to himself.

Charles turned around also. "Father? FATHER!!"

**To be continued… **


	42. Goodbye

**Thank you for the lovely reviews. They always make me so happy. Sorry if this is a bit short chapter but it has all I needed to put in it and nothing more. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 42 Goodbye

"Get up!"

Alan Cholet blinked his eyes. He had gotten used to the dark lately so the sudden arrival of light had him out of focused for a moment. He didn't know how long he had been in the room Count Paradise (Claudin!) and Javert had put him in. He had refused to let any of his moneys go. When he had started to eat them, they had taken his moneys away and told him they would bring them back when he wanted to buy something. He had bought only little of that expensive water. His little room smelled awful for he had refused to pay to use toilet. He himself was terrible looking, with unshaved cheeks, dirty clothes and messy hair.

Cholet blinked once more and looked up to see Javert.

"I said get up! You're free to leave!" Javert barked.

Cholet stared him for a moment, as if he couldn't understand the words he heard, before he slowly got up.

"I can…go?" he asked.

"That's what I said, wasn't it? Now move it, I can't bear to be near you! You smell awful!" Javert said.

Hesitantly Cholet walked out of his "room" to a huge dark corridor. "How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Over a week and it was more trouble than it was worth" Javert said.

"But why? Why are you letting me go?" Cholet couldn't help but ask.

"Not my idea, I assure you of that. The Count ordered you to be released. He should let some air get under his mask, he is obviously loosing his edge. Talked something about _learning to forgive_ or some other bullshit" Javert mumbled.

Cholet had no idea what had happened and he didn't care. He was just about to start take running to the direction Javert was pointing when he turned around. "But…what about my money?"

Javert's face changed and he burst out laughing. "That's the best part in this! He gave it away, all of it, every last penny! All donated to the hospital that is treating your wife" he laughed, as if he had heard the best joke of his life.

Cholet stared the famous criminal for a moment, before turning around and starting to walk towards the exit. He was utterly confused. He had nothing now. All of his precious money was gone. Neither did he have a daughter to wed for a rich family. And he wouldn't be able to appear in Paris anymore, since debt collectors would be hot on his heels.

He pushed a door open and was outside on a street in a city he didn't know. When he saw his reflection in a window, he noticed his hair had lost its colour.

**In Paris:**

"Will this be all, madam?" a worker asked.

"Yes, thank you. Please deliver them to the address I gave you. I shall arrive there later today" Christine de Chagny said.

She watched as the workmen loaded last of the things she was taking with her to the cars and started moving. She turned around and watched as the gates of de Chagny mansion closed, with a sign "on sale" attached to them. She was leaving a house she had called her home for twenty years.

Raoul had been buried the previous day. It had been done in secret, to keep reporters and people away. Richard Firmin had pulled a few strings and Andre had promised not to write anything till the next day. Christine and Charles had said goodbye to Raoul in private.

"You can come out of your hiding place now. They've all gone" Christine said aloud.

The figure of a man dressed completely in black, with a mask covering his face, appeared from behind the corner.

"How long did you know I was here?" Count Paradise asked.

"I didn't. Call it a woman's instinct" she said, not turning around to look at him.

Count watched for a moment the now empty house. "You're leaving" he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I am moving back to the coast, where I lived as a child with my father" she said.

"The house by the sea. You often told me about it. I never got to see it".

"I used to imagine to take you there, to show how beautiful it is. I dreamed that when opera wouldn't take so much of our time we could spend our days there, just the two of us. What a dream for a young girl in love" Christine sighed.

"A certain young boy in love would have surely been happy to have lived that dream" Count said.

Christine swallowed. "It is wrong for them to have lost their dreams so many years ago then".

"We can only now hope that the ones coming after us will cherish every moment they get. Will your son come with you?"

Christine shook his head. "No. Charles has signed himself to service in East" she said.

"He is in army?"

"He wants to clean his name and mine. He wants to show that even when he is his father's child he isn't the same man" Christine told him.

Count nodded his head. "He is truly a remarkable young man. He will do great things".

Now Christine turned around and saw the masked man. "And what of you, Count? What will you do now that your revenge is completed?" she asked.

Count was silent for a moment before answering. "I don't know if you will believe me, but taking my revenge, as you called it, brought me no satisfaction. It only took out the fire that had kept me going so far. There is a disease in my body, one that will kill me. I am not left to wonder what I am supposed to do with my remaining days. Your son gave me the idea of forgiveness. Maybe I am to seek forgiveness for myself now" he said.

"Avenging angel seeking redemption" Christine said and a small smile appeared to her lips. "How operatic".

A slight chuckle was heard from beneath the mask. "Yes, my life is one big opera really".

Christine walked right in front of the count before speaking. "Then I wish you good luck in your search, Count. I wish you will find what you are seeking. I wish you will be happy and not bitter and hating. I wish you so many things that you deserve" she said.

"And I wish you, madam, that your life will be long, healthy and happy one. I wish your days will be filled with laughter and joy and that when you look back in the past you may remember me as I was and not as I am. I wish you so many things that I can not give" he said, and there was a slight tremble in his voice.

Christine looked around them, making sure that no one was seeing, and then she gently lifted Count's mask, and placed her lips for a short moment on his deformed ones. When she retreated there were tears in her eyes, but also a small, beautiful smile.

"Goodbye, Erik" she said, her voice warm.

"Bon voyage, Christine" Erik whispered.

For a moment he remained there standing, watching as she walked away, and it felt like an old wound in his body was reminding him of its existence. But he also felt as if a great burden had been removed from him. He didn't have to think if she would be alright, she would be. And he had finally, after waiting 25 years, got to say goodbye to her.

Letting out a shaking breath Count turned around to his car, where Nadir was holding the door open. When Count entered the vehicle Nadir turned to him.

"Milord, are you alright?" he asked.

The masked face looked back to him. "Yes, my old friend. I am. Now everything is alright. Let us not waste any time. I have much to do and so little time".

**To be continued…**

…**in the final chapter. **


	43. Look to the Future

**Here it is, children, the last chapter. **

**Disclaimers: see chapter 1. **

Chapter 43 Look to the Future

One year later, in Paris airport.

_And now Gilles Andre will report from the court house. Andre, could you remind us all of the circumstances of this trial?_

_Certainly. This all started one year ago then when a man imposing to be Anatole Garron was turned out to be Jerome Reyer, a criminal who had taken part on numerous robberies and even murdered his partner, Joseph Buquet. In a scandalous trial one year ago then, Reyer revealed some harsh evidences that claimed him to be a son of the chief prosecutor Lord Ambrose d'Arcy. Reyer's trial was put on hold as the evidences were carefully inspected and Ambrose d'Arcy was put on custody. However, in still mysterious circumstances, Reyer managed to escape from prison so he was never brought to witness. The both cases of Reyer and d'Arcy have been on hold for a year. However, Reyer was finally found in Cairo two weeks ago then, imposing under an alias of Jacob Hassan. He has now been re-arrested and brought to first witness in case of Ambrose d'Arcy and then face his own trial. It is suspected that the two will face a long sentence…_

Christine Daae, the former Countess of de Chagny, turned her attention away from the big TV screen on the wall that was showing Andre's report. For two weeks press had gone on and on about Jerome Reyer's recapture and the long awaited trial of Ambrose d'Arcy. After Reyer had revealed to be a "buried-alive-son", all of d'Arcy's earlier cases and life events faced inspection. D'Arcy's closest worker, Richard Firmin, had personally gone through most of records there was to be found. Although public was not completely aware of what had been found, there were rumours of some other charges being made. It would seem that d'Arcy might have turned some cases immorally for his benefit in the past. No matter what it really was, d'Arcy was in deep trouble.

"Mrs. Daae? Are you alright?"

Christine blinked and pulled herself from thinking of d'Arcy. She turned to see Meg Carriere, former d'Arcy, looking at her. Meg and Phillip had married few months after they had eloped. They had just recently returned back to Paris.

Christine smiled. "I'm alright, dear. That trial must be harder for you than to anyone else" she said.

A moment of dark look passed on Meg's face but she smiled. "I'll live. I am my grandmother's granddaughter after all".

Christine laughed. "That you are indeed. Do tell Madame Giry to visit me in the future again. It was so good to see her. That is if her health permits it".

"Do not worry about my grandmother. Sometimes I think she'll outlive us all" Meg laughed.

"Most probably" Phillip said from next to his wife. Stories of strict mother-in-laws paled in comparison of grandmother-in-laws. "When is Charles' plane coming anyway?"

From next to him, Harry Hunter looked at his watch. "It should land very soon. I hope at least, it's already 40 minutes late" he muttered, but as a loyal friend would never leave.

They had all come to welcome Charles back to Paris, as he had been away for over a year already. Charles had joined the army in Middle-East and there moved all the way to Mazandera, to help with rebuilding the nation. It was his way to repay all that his father had done. On the way Charles had changed his last name from de Chagny to Daae, to make things easier and less uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

Everyone turned around to see Maria Cholet running towards them. She was running very fast through the airport, trying to avoid hitting to people. When she reached them she was panting heavily. She raised her head to look at everyone and then looked around her.

"Wah-? The jerk hasn't even landed yet?" she asked.

Harry smirked evilly. "Oh, are you so anxious to see him again? But you must certainly be. I do remember that kiss you gave him a year ago then" he said.

Maria's face turned scarlet. "You-you-I-you're dead!" she mumbled as she started to, for amusement of others, to pound her fists on Harry, who tried to shield himself.

Christine smiled fondly. Maria had gained some name in the world of art recently and was acknowledged in London. Her mother, Carlotta, was still in a hospital. Maria visited her often and although Carlotta had made some progress in putting the pieces of her broken mind back together, she still had a long way to go. The recent news of Jerome Reyer was putting her to a test.

Alan Cholet seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. There were lots of different rumours about him. Some said he was dead, in the bottom of a sea with cement boots. Others said he was living with a false name in Sweden, trying to build his fortune again. One thing was certain, Alan Cholet's role in Paris society was over. The Opera Populaire was now run by a man named Debienne, who seemed to at least have more interest in arts than his predecessor.

"_The flight 431 has now landed to gate 26. We thank you for your patience_".

The group moved towards the gate and saw a line of people entering the airport, all tired from their journey and obviously revealed to have landed. Charles appeared out of midst of them. He was dressed in a blue uniform and had a shorter haircut. He looked around himself, trying to find familiar faces.

"The poor boy is going to wonder around if someone doesn't go there. Maria, would you do the honours?" Christine asked.

Maria turned to look the former Countess. "But…but certainly you would prefer…" she stuttered, feeling embarrassed.

"No, dear, it's perfectly alright. Please, go" Christine said warmly.

Maria seemed little hesitant, almost as if a shy little girl, but then she became herself again and she walked towards Charles.

Harry chuckled with a good humour. "Those two are really something" he said and started walking there also, though he purposely delayed behind Maria.

Christine kept watching, feeling very warm inside of her. _Erik said that we must hope the ones coming after us will not have their happiness denied. Those two will definitely succeed, _she thought.

After saying their goodbyes a year ago, Count Paradise had put all his energy, power and money on improving things and help those in need. Since the world was still full of those nations that desperately needed help after the Third World War, Count started to help them. He did not just give a big fancy sum of money to make himself look good, he gave loads of sums to hospitals, schools and workers, and also to arts for he could never denied that passion of his. He travelled the world on sea, in his private yacht. No longer were the words mysterious and scandalous heard when his name was mentioned.

This lasted till last November, when the long tormenting disease in his body finally took hold, and Count Paradise died, while sailing on the former Haiti. Although the specifics of his death were unknown, Christine had heard a rumour that Princess Ayesha, who had stayed on Count's side during his travels, had held his hand till the very end. Christine hoped this was truth. She hoped Erik wouldn't have felt himself alone during his last moments.

Princess Ayesha had inherited Count's entire fortune and she continued his work after his death. Ayesha also returned to Mazandera, her birth country, to help rebuild the nation. The people of Mazandera welcomed her and she was ultimately persuaded in claiming her rightful position as the heir of crown. The country is indeed doing far better than just a short time ago then, and she says she has many plans and visions. In all the pictures that have been taken of her, Nadir, Lajos and Sasha all appear by her side, or at least one of them does.

In one of Ayesha's rare interviews, she said "A great man, who became the most important in my life, told me to not to repeat his mistake of living in the past but look to the future".

As Christine watches as Charles greets all the other of his friends, while still sneakily holding one of his arms around Maria, and she believes it really is time to look for the future. It is time to leave the ghosts of her past behind, time to leave so many things, but never to forget. She treasures all the good memories she has and learns from her past mistakes.

And just before she walks to greet her son, of whom she is so proud of, who also managed to leave past behind and look to the future, she closes her eyes and shuts all the outside noises away. And for a briefest moment, she can still hear a tender, loving voice singing softly to her ear an old minstrel song of a nightingale and a rose.

**The End**

**(Nearly said To be Continued…again)**

**Well that's it. My fifth POTO fic on this site and the second fic to have inspired by The Count of Monte Cristo. 43 chapters long. The first chapter was posted on last June, so it has taken a little bit over a year to make this entire fic. There were times when I faced the lack of faith and energy, and really just wanted to give up, but now I think it was worth of it, in the end. **

**Although I said the story is inspired by Alexander Dumas' classic, I think I need to again also mention the importance of anime version "Gankutsuou" that really put me on work. The idea of starting the story from the point where Erik already has become the vengeful count came from the anime. Indeed, without that series, this fic would never have been done. **

**I also wanted to put things in this fic from Dumas' book that the movie versions usually leave out. Such things were the difficult romance of Phillip and Meg (my counterparts for Maximillien Morrel and Valentine Villefort), Erik having more than just one alias (Edmond Dantes also appeared as an English banker and a priest) and especially the character of Anatole Garron/Jerome Reyer (the double faced Andrea Cavalcanti/Benedetto, whom I've found from only one Dumas movie version). **

**Big thanks for all of my readers, for those who supported me in the beginning but then just disappeared (avatarded, heart.angel.93), those who came to support me later (L'oiseau-lyre) and those who reviewed whenever time allowed but never abounded me (the always supporting Michelle, big thanks for you). Last but not least a special thanks for Irena, who supported me through thick and thin and who always kept me going. If I would dedicate this fic to anyone, it would be to you, Irena. **

**That's all I have to say for now (I probably forgot something). I truly hope you enjoyed this fic, that my grammar mistakes didn't annoy you too much and that you might be interested to look my other works (already completed and upcoming ones). This will be my last POTO fic for a while (until a new inspiration strikes). I shall now take a little rest from writing fics and then drown myself to the world of vampires. **

**Have fun! **


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